


A New Place To Stay

by DebsTheSlytherinSnapeFan



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Severitus, Sevitus, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-17
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2017-12-29 17:35:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 79
Words: 344,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1008166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebsTheSlytherinSnapeFan/pseuds/DebsTheSlytherinSnapeFan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter is called up to Dumbledore's office and told he was being moved elsewhere to keep him safe. He no longer has to stay at the Dursley's, but Dumbledore tells him he has to stay with Severus Snape. For a few days it seemed like a bad idea. Until Severus Snape uncovers the truth of who Harry Potter really is and what he's been through. Watch as Severus does as nobody else has done before him. He takes care of Harry. Watch him flourish into who he was meant to be, a boy with the heart of a Gryffindor and smarts of a Slytherin. The Dursley's, Umbridge and Dumbledore had better watch out Severus is out for revenge. Spy or no spy, Severus is not allowing anyone away with hurting Harry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A New Place To Stay

Chapter 1 

Dumbledore Informs Harry 

Harry's fourth year had just ended; everyone in Hogwarts knew what had happened. Whether they wanted to admit it or not, well… that was a completely different thing altogether. Some students were more comfortable thinking of Harry as an attention-seeking liar or murderer than facing the reality that Lord Voldemort was back once more. The only person Harry could trust was his best friend Hermione Granger, a Muggle-born he had saved from a troll three years ago. Ronald Weasley, well, he was a different matter altogether. Harry had thought he could trust Ron always to have his back; the red-head had turned on him earlier that year. Sure, they had made up, but Harry didn't think he could trust him as he had before. The total trust and loyalty he had shared with the boy since they had sat together in the same compartment on their train ride to Hogwarts was gone. Harry had looked at Ron and wondered if he thought the same, or knew that Harry wasn't quite the same as he used to be.

For a boy who was famous and had people clamouring for his attention, he didn't have many friends. Oh, he had many people claiming to be his friends― best friends―and that they got on well together. None of it was true; there was no one Harry trusted anymore, apart from Hermione. He didn't even trust Dumbledore; he wanted the man's approval and love, though. Harry hadn't had anyone telling him he was good growing up, so someone paying attention to him was a godsend. If he knew why Dumbledore paid him so much attention he would be devastated, and that time would come. The leaving feast had just finished, and Dumbledore had demanded... well, requested... him to go up to his office.

"Come in, Harry," said that wise-sounding old voice.

"Hello, Professor Dumbledore," Harry said softly; he hadn't spoken much since It had happened. He had been Portkeyed out of the school grounds and forced to watch the rebirth of Lord Voldemort, the man who had killed his parents. He'd been bound by the man who had ultimately betrayed them and caused their death, then forced to fight for his life. He still felt stung that Dumbledore had taken him up to his office to make him tell them what had happened, rather than go to the hospital wing with him. He had been hurt very badly; that hadn't seemed to bother Dumbledore. He tried to see it from Dumbledore's point of view, but he knew if someone had landed next to him suffering the after-effects of the Cruciatus curse, he would have taken that person right to the infirmary. He would have made sure he was all right and then gotten his answers. He'd already known the most important bits of information to be had: that Voldemort was back, and that he had killed Cedric Diggory.

"Harry, my boy, how are you?" Dumbledore asked kindly, his blue eyes twinkling.

"Fine," Harry intoned; that was what he had been telling everyone who asked if he was okay. He had just seen his classmate killed― sure, he was going to feel better with someone always asking if he was all right.

"I see. I have important news to share: I feel the Dursleys' is no longer safe for you, as it once was. You will not be going back home to them; instead we have a temporary placement for you," Dumbledore told him.

When Dumbledore said that, Harry felt a twinge of hope, but stuffed it down. Dumbledore had never done this when he'd asked to go somewhere else. Dumbledore had always told him in that patronising, I-know-better-than-you voice that it was important for him to remain there. How important was it that he now had to live somewhere else? And who the hell was he to stay with? That's what filled him with dread. Dumbledore had sent him back to the Dursleys knowing how he was treated―Harry was sure of that―and now wanted him placed elsewhere? He was truly fearful; he knew deep in the pit of his stomach that he wasn't going to like his answer.

"Who?" Harry asked; he knew it wouldn't be Sirius or the Weasleys, and didn't delude himself otherwise.

"Professor Snape, Harry," Dumbledore replied, watching his student worriedly; he knew this wouldn't sit well with him. However, Harry didn't seem to react; it was as if he hadn't spoken at all.

Harry wanted to roar and shout, break things, and snarl at Dumbledore, but it would be futile even to argue. Dumbledore would get his way; there was nothing he could do, no matter what. He was underage, and it wasn't as if he could go to the Ministry ― they hated him too. So he was stuck with Dumbledore’s telling him what to do constantly. Not only Dumbledore now, but Snape as well, but what could Snape do that hadn't already been done to him? Then he thought of the Cruciatus curse that Voldemort had cast on him. Snape was bound to know that spell; what if he used that on him? He realized right there and then that it was actually safer being with Vernon Dursley than Snape. Vernon was a Muggle and could cause Harry an unimaginable amount of pain, but Snape ― Snape could probably kill him. He had been a Death Eater at one point, after all; Snape had even shown his newly returned Dark Mark to Fudge. He sighed inwardly, he knew he was being unfair to Snape; despite the fact the man was an utter bastard and seemed to hate Harry with a vengeance, he had saved him too many times to count. He was always there when it counted; the same couldn't be said for Dumbledore or even his own godfather Sirius Black.

Harry knew he would have fallen goodness knows how many feet from his broom and could have died. Snape had looked out for the school and students when he suspected Quirrell was after the stone. Third year was definitely more impressive: Snape, the man that loathed him, had shielded him and his two best friends from a werewolf. He had actually put himself in front of them, guarding them ― it didn't matter that Sirius had managed to get wolf-Lupin's attention. It was the thought that counted, the “ifs” and “buts” meant more to Harry. He had been trying to keep Black from the castle all year, doing what he did best ― protecting everyone without looking for anything in return.

The most recent thing, really, was Snape’s trying to get him out of the contract. Even if he had insulted his intelligence ... but it was true, he didn't have the power to dupe a powerful magical artifact such as the Goblet of Fire. Snape had been the only one to object, really, apart from the other schools; Dumbledore had just stood there, his eyes twinkling after asking if he had done it.

He wondered what the rules were going to be like living with Snape, whether he was going to have a chance to learn them or find out only when he actually did something wrong. His Uncle Vernon had loved playing that game with him, along with making his nephew think he was getting presents and a birthday cake when he was younger. It made him feel sick just thinking about the times he had fallen for Vernon's tricks. Harry shook his head; he had been deep in thought too long; he just stared at Dumbledore and didn't reply. What was the point, really? His opinion never mattered.

"Very well, Harry; you will ride on the Express and not let anyone know," Dumbledore said softly, dismissing Harry.

Dumbledore knew there wasn't anyone he trusted more than Severus to ensure Harry's survival. According to Figg, there had been strange men walking around Privet Drive recently. Obviously Lucius Malfoy had been doing some digging and had found the copies of the letters sent out during Harry's second year for accidental magic. Purebloods attempting to dress as Muggles were an amusing thing, which was why Figg had gotten in touch. Figg was to remain there and keep an eye out; Dumbledore needed to keep her there just in case he had no choice but to send Harry back once the Death Eater activity ceased.

"What did Professor Dumbledore want, Harry?" Hermione asked, not even letting Harry step foot into the Gryffindor common room. She had her ginger-haired cat, Crookshanks, in her arms, petting its head; the squashed-faced cat was staring at him.

"I'm not returning to the Dursleys'," Harry murmured very quietly, not caring what Dumbledore had instructed.

"Who are you going with? The Weasleys?" Hermione cautiously asked. Ron looked up from where he was sitting to the right of Hermione on one of the Gryffindor-red couches in the common room. It was right next to a lit fire, but Harry couldn't feel any warmth; he only felt cold these days.

"No, but I'm not allowed to tell you," Harry sighed, finally inside the common room and looking broodier than ever.

"Surely you can tell us!" Ron protested, upset; the thing with Ron was, he had to know all your secrets. It didn't matter that Dumbledore had told Harry not to tell, he had to know or he would go and sulk like a five-year-old child who didn’t get his way.

"If Professor Dumbledore told him not to, it's probably best!" Hermione said hotly, as usual sticking up for all authority figures. That was one thing Harry hated about Hermione: her constant need to respect authority figures even if they didn't deserve respect. She had even stuck up for Quirrell and Lockhart, kept Lupin's secret from them until the very end, and had even said Moody ―who had been Crouch Jr. in disguise― must have had a reason for showing them those spells.

"I'm going to my bed," Harry said walking past them, leaving them to bicker it out between them. A lonely sigh left his lips; he knew that, no doubt, it would be another sleepless night for him. He never slept any more than a few hours; he always woke up screaming and shouting Cedric's name. Thankfully he had already learned silencing spells and erected them around his bed; no one knew, not even Ron ― that was, if he would even care.

\----------0

Harry sat waiting for his Potions professor patiently; he was used to waiting hours for his uncle to come for him, so it was nothing new. He had let Hedwig out before boarding the train that morning. He sat unworried on his trunk, feeling a little better about himself; he had given away that horrible money he had won. Fred and George sure could use it better than he ever could. Perhaps they would open that joke shop they always bragged they would one day have. If he had known the address of the Diggorys, he might have sent it along; it should have been his, anyway.

"Come, Potter," snarled the familiar voice of his Potions professor.

Knowing just how pissed off the man was, he quickly jumped up and began following his professor, once his trunk had been shrunk and pocketed. He noticed they had entered an alley―an empty one; at that, Harry's heart began beating like a drum. His mind begged for his Potions professor not to have a Portkey. Instead, his Potions professor told him to stand closer; Harry was too relieved even to be disgruntled at having to be so close to the man who hated him. Then he felt like he was being sucked up a Hoover, and wondered if this was what that poor bird had felt like when Dudley had sucked it up. Of course the poor budgie had died; Harry, on the other hand, just felt extremely sick. Since he had not been eating properly, it was no surprise, really, that he wasn't sick; there was nothing in his system to sick up anymore. A niggling at the back of his head had him pausing; he wasn't sure why this experience felt familiar to him.

Severus let go of Harry very abruptly, as if he were disgusted to have touched him; Harry, despite the fact he shouldn't care, did― his heart gave a little twinge of pain. Was he truly that disgusting that his Potions professor, who was always so composed, found touching him so repulsive?

Severus couldn't believe he had been talked into taking the spoiled, pampered Potter brat in over the summer. He had, of course, warned Dumbledore he wasn't going to baby the boy; Potter would learn to respect him one way or another. Despite his words, he couldn't help but be impressed that Potter hadn't emptied the contents of his stomach during Apparation. He'd had a set of barbs thought up for him; of course, only Harry Potter could manage such a thing and screw with his planned words. He walked sharply, leaving Potter to catch up with him, leading the way to the room he was grudgingly giving the boy to sleep in. Of course he wouldn't make the boy sleep in a cellar, as amusing as the thought might be; Lily would have killed him for it. He would end up with nightmares about his fiery red-headed girl being furious with him for doing that to her son. Even though he knew they weren't real, he didn't want to do anything that would hinder his forgiveness from Lily in the afterlife. The way he treated the boy was half out of expectations and half because he truly detested the spoiled, pampered brat.

He only wished he could do that to his own godson and stop him from making the same mistakes Snape had made as a teenager. However, his life would be forfeit if he even tried; Lucius would see to that. No, he couldn't trust his godson, not with where his loyalty lay; all he could do was very subtly show him the wrongs in what he was joining. He had to try, but Lucius Malfoy had begun showing his son his worldly ways years ago, long before the child had set foot in Hogwarts.

"This is your room, Potter," Severus said, opening the door to the room and unshrinking Harry's trunk. Harry kept his expression neutral and put his trunk by the bed. He wondered what he should do now, but his Professor saved him wondering.

"Breakfast is at seven, lunch at twelve, dinner at six; if you are even a minute late for any meal you will go without. I do not accept tardiness. Do not think you will laze about this summer; you will keep this room exceptionally clean. I will have a list of chores for you to get done each day, and if they fail to meet my standards, you will do them again. You will also complete your summer homework and do extra reading for me, which I will quiz you on at a later date; do I make myself clear?" Severus asked sharply.

"Yes, Professor Snape," Harry said, watching his professor without emotion.

"Good. As it's past lunch, I will see you down the stairs at six o'clock for dinner, and your hands had better be clean," Severus instructed.

Harry nodded his head, indicating he understood.

Severus looked ready to leave before he spoke again; this time it made Harry's heart jerk painfully. "Hand over your invisibility cloak, wand, and broom; I won't have you sneaking around my home."

Harry's heart hammered in his chest as he automatically opened his trunk and took out his shrunken broom. His hands hesitated on the only thing he had of his parents, well, father, really. Eventually he managed to pick the cloak up, swallowing back the lump that grew in his throat. The wand was possibly the hardest thing to part with, now that it had saved him from Voldemort. He was used to not having his wand with him during the summer, though; his uncle made sure everything was in the trunk before it was locked in his old room ― the cupboard under the stairs. Harry wondered if he would ever see it again, feeling the soft fabric of the invisibility cloak in his hands; he finally looked up when he knew his expression wasn't tortured any longer. He handed them over without complaint or fuss, knowing it wouldn't matter ― Snape could and would just summon them.

Severus' long hands grabbed them before turning to leave; he was surprised the boy hadn't complained about his room, or the rules he had set forth, and even more so when the child had given up what were, no doubt, three of his most cherished possessions without even a word of protest. He wasn't doing it to be mean; he just wanted to know where the boy was at all times, especially in his home, and he wasn't going to allow Harry to sneak off flying, just in case he went beyond the wards he had set up around his home. If someone was looking for the boy and he left the wards, they would instantly know it was Snape who had Harry Potter. His position was precarious enough without allowing such a thing to happen. He also knew Potter might not mean it, but accidents did happen around the boy. He put spanners in everyone's work― mostly the Dark Lord's, but that was beside the point. Although Severus couldn't deny he had felt some satisfaction in taking them, that had disappeared when the boy had handed them over without even the slightest bit of fuss, especially the wand. Severus hadn't gone a minute without his wand, never mind an entire summer; the thought made shudders run through him. Yet he didn't even stop to consider this was what he was doing to a boy who was number one on the Dark Lord's hit list. It disconcerted Severus, seeing the boy so quiet and withdrawn. Then again, Severus thought grudgingly, he had seen a boy die, and then had been forced to fight Voldemort― that would quiet anyone. Although, this boy had already faced Voldemort, even if he had been only a spirit at the time, and had killed Quirrell, too. Quirrell was in no way an innocent, as the Diggory boy had been, the first casualty in the upcoming war, one that the Ministry was damn well ignoring.

Once Severus was in his own room, he removed the Muggle clothes he had worn and had a shower. Once he was clean and once again in his normal casual robes, he put the three items he had confiscated into a drawer. Using his wand he locked it so they were inaccessible, even if the boy did go rummaging―and Merlin help him if he did―he would take the boy over his knee if need be. He wouldn't allow Potter to rummage through his room; it was off-limits, and he would make sure the boy knew that. He realized it was only an hour until dinner; without more ado he went down to his sitting room, opened his potions book, and began reading, ignoring the fact that he had a fourteen-year-old boy in his house.

\----------0

Harry sat down after he heard the soft padding of his professor's feet as he walked away. The room was beautiful; it was more than he had hoped for—actually, it was better by far than what he'd had at the Dursleys'. In Dudley's second bedroom he'd had a very old, worn mattress and one cover to lie on, a rickety old cupboard that was falling to pieces, and a small night stand. He had never had the pleasure of sleeping on a bed or comfortable mattress before entering Hogwarts. He hated the fact that Ron took everything he had for granted; Harry would have killed for the family Ron had. He knew how different they were; he wanted his parents above all else, and Ron? Ron wanted to be Quidditch Captain and Head Boy, and win the House Cup and Quidditch Cup, all confirmed in the Mirror of Erised in his first year. Ron had had a sheltered life compared to his, and he envied him that.

The walls were white; the bedding was so soft, and a nice coffee colour. He had proper drawers that looked to be made of oak, a proper cupboard, and the bed was a four-poster, like at Hogwarts, only it was oak and not just common wood. Proper oak was expensive, Harry knew that much, so he had to make sure not to damage the room in any way, shape, or form. There was a desk with drawers that had a lamp on it too; on the wall opposite his bed was a clock.

He hadn't thought about where his professors stayed away from Hogwarts, but he should have guessed they had homes away from the castle. This place was huge, beautiful, and well-kept. It was too well-kept for his Potions professor to run by himself, which meant he had house-elves. It didn't bother him that he was going to be doing chores when there were house-elves that could do it. It would keep him busy, something he needed, or his mind would wander and his guilt would increase tenfold. Perhaps if his Potions professor kept him busy enough, he might get a decent night's sleep, although he was wondering how to keep his nightmares to himself. His uncle had beat him black and blue for waking him ― he didn't want to know what Snape would be like. He was furious about just having to deal with Harry, never mind if he actually woke him up during the night. Harry didn't realize that wish magic was tingling around the room, silencing it; wish magic was powerful and Harry, both Dumbledore and Snape knew, was very powerful indeed. He had, after all, been Voldemort's equal since he was one-and-a-half years old.

Harry took out his clothes, only putting away his school things, which he would be wearing. At least the shirts and trousers, and his winter cloak, maybe, if he needed it― his cousin's cast-offs were kept in his trunk. The socks and underwear he was forced to wear went into a drawer; most of his underwear had string attached to them, so they would stay on him. Dudley was far too big, and Harry was far too small and skinny for his age, so it shouldn't come as a surprise. Harry still didn't know of the existence of the spell that could shrink the clothes to fit him better. Just looking at the mustard-coloured socks his uncle had given him years ago for his birthday made him gag. He pulled out all his books and lined them up on a shelf; he knew he would be using them all this summer. He was just grateful to be able to do his homework properly this year, and not under the cover of darkness ―what homework he managed to smuggle up the stairs. His cousin's clothes were huge, and he could fit ink, paper, and his assignments in them, but unfortunately no books; he had to try to memorize what he knew. The rest he did on the train ride to Hogwarts or the night before classes began; his homework was normally a mess. Looking at the clock he knew he'd best start making his way down now, he wasn't exactly sure where the dining room was. He didn't feel particularly hungry, but knew he had to eat. He wasn't sure what his professor would do if he broke the rules and didn't want to find out so soon. He was also unsure of what exactly his professor would have him doing tomorrow, so he needed food for energy—and of course to stop himself from blacking out.

Despite the size of the manor, finding the dining room was pretty straightforward. It was next to a big kitchen; Harry found that he had been right, as he could now see house-elves plating up food. He stood awkwardly in front of his professor, wondering what seat to take, not wanting to insult his professor by sitting too far away, and not wanting to make him angry by sitting too near.

"Sit down there, Potter," Severus curtly directed, nodding to the left of him, one seat vacant between them. So Harry did as he was told... another thing he was unused to, eating at a table when he wasn't at Hogwarts. He wasn't allowed on the furniture at home, which was why he preferred the common room floor most of the time. Sitting on furniture made him feel like he was about to be scolded now, he was so used to it. The seats in the classrooms at school were different; that, he was used to. He made sure not to put his elbows on the table, and tried to think of all the other important details of proper eating. No elbows on the table, his aunt used to tell his cousin ― not that he had cared, of course. The napkin, he folded on his lap, feeling extremely vulnerable and confused. He wanted no reason for his Potions Master to moan at him, and he waited patiently, lost in thought until the food was brought through.

Without thinking, he thanked the house-elf, causing it to gasp in astonishment. Harry cringed, waiting for the inevitable sneer of his teacher's tearing into him. By that time the house-elf was already gone, and Severus was digging into the food platters and putting generous amounts of food on his plate, not even looking in Harry's direction. Harry came back to it, racing heart gradually slowing down; thinking it was best not to say thank you to a house-elf again, he waited for Severus to finish plating his food. He scooped up his own, the portions he took very small compared to his Potions Master's, and mostly vegetables: broccoli, peas, carrots; half a tender chicken breast―the other half had fallen off, and Harry just left it and scooped up some fluffy mashed potatoes.

Severus hid a frown at the lack of food on the brat's plate. If the boy wanted to starve himself, then fine; he wasn't about to play nursemaid. He wasn't used to children filling their plates with vegetables, there had been a lot there he could have eaten instead. Roast potatoes and chips, should he have wished it, but no, he was eating it slowly, and carefully too. Eventually he cleaned off his own plate; only then did Severus notice the brat began eating more quickly, as if afraid it was going to be taken from him, or was going to disappear. Rolling his eyes, Severus wondered why the brat assumed he wasn't getting any pudding.

"May I be excused, sir?" Harry asked softly.

"What for?" Severus asked, taken aback and barely concealing it.

"I have finished, sir," Harry replied, a small frown on his face.

Severus wanted to snap at the boy to not talk to him like that, but he had spoken so softly, and seemed rather confused as well, so he couldn't snap. Resisting the urge to close his eyes and sigh in exasperation, he replied with a sneer, "I assume, then, you do not want dessert?"

Harry blinked, a surprised look coming to his eyes; honestly, did the brat think he was a monster? Who would deny a child food? Even though he had said if he was late he wouldn't get anything, Severus wasn't sure himself if he would ever go through with the promise. One meal couldn't hurt anyone, he supposed, so he might go through with it if the brat did get tardy with him and refuse to come to breakfast, lunch, or dinner on time.

Suddenly the food disappeared; Harry remained seated, and dessert swiftly came through. Harry just nodded this time, a smile on his face, instead of thanking the elf; he was just glad the little thing hadn't broken anything. Harry was so sure he would pay the price for it; he knew how house-elves reacted to praise; he had learned with Dobby.

Meringue, ice cream, and a delicious selection of soft fruits; Harry had never seen any of those fruits at Hogwarts before. They only seemed to have apples, oranges, bananas, and sometimes kiwi fruit. Once again, Harry waited for his teacher to serve himself before he touched anything; he must have been doing something right before, since he hadn't even sniffed disdainfully at him. He began by scooping up only half a bowl of fruit, it looked really good, and Harry couldn't resist it. The Dursleys would never give him fresh fruit, so this was his chance to see if it tasted as good as it looked. He showed no emotion as he ate the dessert, peach, raspberries, blueberries, melon, watermelon, cherries, chunks of plum, apple, kiwi, and pineapple, and he loved each and every bite of it. The taste on his tongue was paradise; he wanted more by the time he was done, but never dared take more. He had gotten more than he normally got at the Dursleys, a lot more. As much as he liked the thought of more, his stomach wouldn't be able to handle it. The sickness he felt at what had happened to Cedric stopped him from eating, sure, but even before the final task he had been reducing his portions, preparing for going back to getting nothing for months again.

"Thank you very much for dinner, sir. Is there anything you want me to do tonight?" Harry asked softly.

His teacher raised an eyebrow at him; a glint of amusement shining in those black eyes, he said, "No; go bathe or shower, or whatever it is you want; get into your nightclothes, and get an early night tonight. You do have a busy day ahead of you tomorrow. Never leave your room after nine o'clock for any reason, other than if you need the bathroom," was all his teacher said.

Severus was amused by how Harry Potter was acting; the spoiled brat was nowhere to be seen. Sure, Cedric Diggory's death should change him, but to this extent? Thanking his hated Potions professor for dinner? There was something wrong with the brat. Unless, of course, he was trying to be nice, hoping his chores would be shortened. Severus snorted at that; it was an almost-Slytherin move on the boy's part, and he didn't mean it as a compliment.

The boy nodded and left the room, and Severus was worried, despite trying to deny his thoughts about how subservient the child had been. Perhaps the boy just needed a decent night's sleep, and facing the chores he had to do would bring out the brat he knew once more.

The child had to learn he couldn't get everything in life with a look; Voldemort wasn't going to lie down and die. This was real life; he wasn't a hero in a storybook, and Severus ― despite his hate for the boy― wanted the brat to live through the war, not only because he had sworn to protect him, but also because he was half Lily. Some real work wouldn't hurt him; Severus also planned on training him later in the summer. He needed to know how to protect himself; again, he had no plans to be gentle with the brat; Death Eaters weren't going to use tickling charms. In the end the brat would come out stronger, and perhaps maybe a little more proud of himself than he was, not just because of his status as the Boy-Who-Lived, but something he alone had accomplished.

If only he knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Jake and Jordre for editing the story


	2. Chapter 2

A New Place To Stay 

Chapter 2 

Harry's Chores, Fears, And Determination

Harry woke up muffling his screams and shouts into the pillow, his heart pounding in his chest. Fear froze him on the spot; terrified he had woken Snape up, he listened intently for twenty minutes before he allowed his body to relax. He mustn't have been shouting much if his teacher hadn't heard, thank God for that. He saw to his surprise that Hedwig was in her open cage. He hadn't expected her for a few more days yet; he beamed in happiness, strolled over, and began petting his very first friend and gift. She chirred at him, her amber eyes twinkling happily; he had put her cage in the corner and opened the window for her, of course, and it would remain that way unless Snape demanded he close it. It was the first time Hedwig had been able to fly during the summer; she was bound to be loving it. Outside the window, everything was eerily silent and black. Looking at the clock, he could see it was only three o'clock in the morning. It was the longest he had ever managed to sleep before, especially after going to sleep so early. He knew he wouldn't be getting back to sleep again so he took a book from his shelf, took out parchment and ink, and put on the lamp, hoping that Snape wouldn't see and come in; it would drive him crazy to have to try to sleep again.

For the next three hours he wrote his Charms essay, and read about it, too, so he knew what to write. He didn't copy it from the book, because he knew that qualified as cheating; he was supposed to put it in his own words, so that's what he did. For once it wasn't hastily written or full of ink blotches that escaped his quill, and was free of mistakes. He was actually proud of himself; only one day into the summer holidays, and he already had one essay done. Hermione would no doubt be rather proud of him too; he wondered silently if they would write to him this summer. It was six o'clock by the time he was done; he left the essay to dry as he very quietly gathered what toiletries he had left, which wasn't much. He was going to have to watch what he did with the shampoo; he was going to have to use smaller drops. Harry washed himself, including the ink stains on his fingers; he wanted no reason to be told to leave the table and not be allowed food.

Once that was done he dressed in his school shirt and trousers; he wasn't, under any circumstances, wearing Dudley's clothes ... not showing, anyway. He had to wear them during the winter and did, under his closed winter robes. Nobody ever saw him wearing anything other than the school uniform; he had always done it, so no questions were ever asked. He was a hero and had only ended up setting a trend, which was a good thing for Harry ― it helped him hide his shame.

That done, he made his way down to breakfast―there were only five minutes to spare. He noticed his Potions professor was already there, drinking a mug of black tea or coffee, whichever he preferred, but Harry couldn't tell. He said a very quiet good morning and sat down. Severus just nodded curtly to him before he began reading the newspaper again. He wasn't offered a chance to read it after Snape was finished with it. He didn't ask.

Breakfast was served; instead of big platters, the elves just brought through a plate of food. Harry really did try to eat everything, but he was unable to eat even half of the things in front of him. A sausage, bit of bacon, some scrambled egg, half a sunny side up, half a hash brown― he didn't like black pudding or fruit pudding or fried tomatoes. He gratefully drank down the glass of milk― again, it wasn't often he got a chance at milk. Not unless he ate cornflakes at school; the school only gave you orange juice or pumpkin juice. He jumped out of his skin as he put his utensils down and wiped his face when his Potions professor barked at him.

"Potter, go up and change into something you don't mind getting dirty."

Tamping down the horror, he willed away the flush of embarrassment on his face. As he stared down at the plate, his mind was working in overdrive to think of an excuse; only one came to him. "I'm sorry, sir; nothing fits me," Harry whispered.

"Look at me when I talk to you!" Severus demanded, furious with the child; didn't children know to look at adults when they were talking? Of all the insolent things.

"Sorry, sir," Harry apologized, wide-eyed, praying he hadn't screwed things up.

"How does your school uniform fit you if your normal Muggle attire doesn't?" Severus asked smoothly as if trying to catch the teenager out in a lie.

"I got my Muggle clothes years ago, my school things only in October," Harry said honestly, and in that Severus Snape wasn't able to detect a lie; he hadn't gotten any clothes from the Dursleys in years. The things were getting more and more threadbare, and he was beginning to fear that soon he would have nothing left.

"Very well," Severus bit out, "we shall just have to get you some new clothes later. Until then I shall shrink down a pair of jogging pants and a t-shirt." He didn't like having to shrink his things to fit the brat, but he didn't want the boy going out all summer in the heat getting dirty and sweaty with dressy clothes on.

Harry wanted to protest that he only had just enough money to do him out of school, if his vault was anything to go by. He didn't know that was just the one his parents had set up for him to spend during the school years. His father, James Potter, was, after all, a Potter and pureblood; he had more money than most purebloods simply because James and Lily had lived modestly in a home James had already owned in Godric's Hollow. He had been an Auror as well; the money had just accumulated over the years. Yet another thing Albus Dumbledore had failed Harry in, not just sending him to the Dursleys, but also keeping his inheritance from him.

"Yes, sir," Harry said respectfully, wondering if he would need to get a job before his seventh year to be able to afford his school things. Clothes were expensive; it was why he hadn't gone and bought any. He needed what money he had to tide him through school, only taking what he needed and a little extra for toiletries and perhaps a few treats during trips to Hogsmeade. His supposed best friend, unfortunately, had decided it was because he didn't want to share it with him. The red-headed boy was seriously deluded and very narrow-minded. If he didn't watch his attitude, he would find himself without a decent friend.

"Good. I shall put them in your room; they will size to fit you," Severus curtly said, getting up and leaving his empty plate and cup for the house-elves to remove. As he chose the clothes for the brat he lifted up the list of things he wanted the boy to do.

He was surprised to find the boy waiting for him in his room when he entered, but he just handed the two sets of clothes he had chosen, two pairs of black jogging bottoms and a brown and black t-shirt to the brat. The boy took them, surprisingly hesitant, as if he suspected him to have tampered with them. Tramping down on the reflective anger, he barked for the boy to come down to the kitchen when he was finished before he, in his usual Snape fashion, twirled around, robes billowing behind him, and leaving.

Harry, not wanting to anger Snape more than he already had, got dressed in the black clothes. If it hadn't been for the horrible socks and holey boxers he had on, he would have actually been rather comfortable. He had to find a way to find out how Snape had charmed them to do that. He wasn't about to ask any time soon, though, not with the mood Snape was in at the moment. Dressed, trainers on, he quickly made his way down to the kitchen, wondering if that was where he would be working today.

Harry had to stop himself from saying I'm here, sir, and stating the obvious; after all Snape could clearly see him. He slid his glasses up his nose, blinking a few times, trying to dislodge the headache that was always there. He didn't have the correct eyeglass prescription; his aunt had gotten these from goodness-knew-where for him. They helped him see better than nothing, so he hadn't complained— not that he would have. The headaches were so constant, he no longer realized he had them, unless he had kept his glasses off for an extended period of time, as when he had been writing his charms essay.

"Those are the things that will need to be done today; I will not call for you, and if you do not appear for meals, then that's not my problem," Severus said curtly, handing over the piece of paper with his long spidery scrawl on it.

"Yes, sir," Harry said, wondering where he was going to get the seeds or equipment to actually start making Snape's new potion-ingredient herb garden.

"You will find everything in the shed," Severus added before leaving.

Harry walked out into the beautiful sunshine, seemingly unbothered about the work he had to do. He wasn't― he actually enjoyed the garden work at his aunt and uncle's, though none of it was as exciting as actually creating a garden from seeds. Entering the shed, he found that it was very tidy and well-kept, much like everything else. Nothing was just haphazardously flung in like the shed at Privet Drive, although this shed was about five times larger than the small shed the Dursleys owned. He found a basket that would carry all the seeds he needed without dropping them, so he decided to use it. Gathering a big spade, he also selected a small one and a small pronged item that would help him get the seeds into the soil much easier. He left the shed and made his way towards where he was told to make the new garden.

With that he began digging. It was messy, hard work, but Harry was used to hard work. At the age of five he had been mowing the lawn with a massive monster machine that was bigger and stronger than he. Cutting out sections of the grass, he rolled it up once he was done and put it to the side, unsure of what else to do with it. It was to be eight feet both ways, so it would be quite long, and it took him hours to do it. He couldn't take off his shirt, for fear of Snape's seeing the scars on his back. The whip and belt marks had left faint lines criss-crossing his back. He usually did take it off back at Privet Drive, as the garden was secluded with very high fences... not too high, though, as Petunia liked to be able just to see over them. Petunia was a tall, bony woman; no one would have cared if they had seen anyway. They all thought he went to St. Brutus's for incurably criminal boys.

\--------0

Severus watched Harry working from the second floor of his manor, a frown marring his usually severe stoic features. This was supposed to be a punishment, not for anything he had done, but to show him life wasn't fair. That he, Severus Snape, wasn't going to give him everything on a silver platter like everyone else. Severus knew what life was going to be like for the brat; whether he liked him or not, no child deserved that. He wanted to take away the silver spoon that had been wedged in Potter's mouth since he had been born. Hard work would make the boy appreciate everything better and instill some pride in him, and all Severus could do was hope Harry managed to keep outwitting the Dark Lord. He had expected the boy to groan or moan about the long list or what he had to do, but he had remained passive, unresisting, and Severus was beginning to fear Voldemort's return had affected the brat more than anyone realized. He had expected Potter to become bratty today, after he got over the shock of living with his most hated Potions professor—or better yet, when it dawned on Harry what he was being asked to do. He had been watching the boy work for hours; he had yet to stop, slack off, or even take a break.

The sweat was pouring off the boy's face, and Severus got no satisfaction from seeing it. The boy was contradicting everything Severus thought he had known of him; if only he had any idea. The work the boy was doing was supposed to keep him busy all day, but he was already halfway done; the grass had all been bundled up and moved aside. Harry had never done a hard day's work before in his life, Severus was sure of it, yet here he was working diligently. He didn't instill that much fear in his student that he was afraid to slack off... Did he? Where the bloody hell were the temper tantrums and the refusals to do it? Where were the threats of telling Black, or better yet, Dumbledore? It was annoying Severus to no end, seeing this. He had been able to read Potter like an open book for four years—or so he'd thought.

Severus stalked off and went down to the basement, where he began making a potion, not coming out until lunch time. He ate by himself, as Potter didn't make an appearance. He wasn't, as promised, going to chase the boy; if he wanted to miss meals, then so be it. He shrugged off his worry and told the house-elves to clear everything away; they weren't happy, but did as their master bid.

Walking back up to the room he had watched from earlier, he noticed Potter was nowhere to be seen. A sense of satisfaction enveloped Severus. There, that was the Potter brat he knew all too well; he conveniently forgot the boy had worked for three hours without a break earlier. Any sense of satisfaction faded fast when he saw the boy lugging two full-to-the-brim watering cans over to the newly dug-up earth. Potter couldn't possibly have managed to plant all those seeds yet, could he? He couldn't have done a day's work in what? Six hours? He scowled at the boy, feeling decidedly uncomfortable, as if it were his fault.

\------------0

Harry was exhausted, but refused to stop; he had done more than this before. His exhaustion hadn't meant much to anyone in the past, and he was more than sure it wasn't anything that would upset his severe Potions master. He was drier than a bone and couldn't wait to get to the bathroom and drink—he wasn't going to drink the water from the well he had found. Using all his strength to pick up the very full metal watering can, he began pouring the water over the seeds, knowing they needed plenty of water to grow. He gave a sigh of relief as the water drained out of it, making it easier to handle. Unfortunately for him, he still had half of the potions patch, as he had dubbed it, to water. He wished he had another way to get the water all the way over here; the well was quite a bit away. Despite his tired, groaning muscles, he picked up the two empty watering cans and made a return journey to the well.

Needless to say, Harry was very glad to see that done, but he also knew it would need to be done probably twice a day, unless it rained. Harry secretly hoped for the rain; his arms were killing him. He wondered silently what the time was, but that was the thing with summer: there was no way to tell. A wheelbarrow! That would help; he hadn't seen one… what if he asked? No, he couldn't, he shuddered at the mere thought, wondering silently what would happen if he did ask for anything. Never in his life had he asked for a single thing. Vernon would beat him black and blue; Snape? Why, he had a worse temper than Vernon, if that was possible. When it came to him, they were the same, and it was all Harry had ever known: scowling, sneering horrific insults about him and his parents all his life—although Snape probably wouldn't appreciate being compared to a big, huge, walrus of a Muggle. He wondered how much satisfaction Snape would get out of talking to his uncle about his father; they both hated him with a fiery passion. As Harry carried the heavy watering cans over, he couldn't help but wonder what life would have been like if Voldemort hadn't been born. His life would have been very different; he knew his parents loved him now anyway.

Even after four years it still surprised him; love would surge through him when he thought of his parents, instead of the disgust and shame that had gone through him before when he'd thought his parents had been drunks. No, his parents hadn't died drunk out of their heads in a car crash that had nearly taken his life; no, they had loved him more than their own lives and had died for him. He still remembered the awe he'd felt when Hagrid had explained everything to him. It was why, after all those years of taunts and degrading barbs, he’d reacted very defensively and angrily when his parents were mentioned. Aunt Marge had found that out first-hand; unfortunately, the disgusting, obese woman couldn't remember. Oh, he had been terrified at the time he'd done it; he had thought he would be expelled. He would rather die than end up back at the Dursleys' full-time. He knew they wouldn't allow him to attend high school; he would spend his time slaving after them until he was seventeen, then be kicked out at the first available opportunity. He knew his uncle would give him up to Voldemort himself if it would save his sorry arse.

After watering everything down, he stood back in satisfaction, his green eyes gleaming with pride as he looked over his work. He took his glasses off and wiped the sweat from his forehead, using his shoulders to wipe some sweat off his neck, too. He was so thirsty and hot, he just wanted a nice cold drink and a cold shower. He wasn't sure if Snape would want him using his bathroom whenever he felt like it, though. He didn't want to push his luck; after all, he was glad to be able to use the toilet and even have a bath at all. At the Dursleys', he had washed as best he could in the sink, in cold water. The toilet he could only use when directed to, when he wasn't locked in the room, and his beady-eyed aunt kept an eye on him, shouting dire threats of telling Vernon he was lazing around. Harry knew it would earn him twenty swats with the belt, and it drove him to work faster and harder. All the while, he could feel his aunt watching him with malicious glee and disgust.

Deciding to go to the bathroom to relieve himself, he drank the cool water from the tap with a sigh of relief. He saw the time and feared the worst; his professor was going to go nuts at him. It was three o'clock; he had missed lunch―he had completely forgotten. He had nothing to remind him; his stomach didn't rumble with hunger anymore, it was that used to not getting fed. He didn't have a watch or anything to identify the time with. Would he not get dinner now? Snape had said he wouldn't get it if he wasn't on time. Did that include all the meals for the day? The week? Or just the meal he missed being on time for? This was what he meant about new rules. He didn't know Snape's rules, and he feared the unknown. He stayed in the bathroom, his stomach in knots, wishing he knew things.

He decided that if he did everything on the list he might get dinner if he was good―after all, his aunt had sometimes given him leftovers when he did a good job when he had been younger. Despite his exhaustion, he got to work on his new task, finding his way down to the dungeons and slipping in. He noticed lots of potion ingredients needing to be done. Thankfully there was a clock on the wall; that would help him ― he really wanted dinner. The food tasted so good, the thought of maybe getting more of the delicious fruit he'd had yesterday made his mouth water.

For the next three hours he worked in the Potions lab. He started by cutting, slicing, dicing, and crushing potion ingredients. He put them into their respective containers, which already had preservation charms on them. He labelled them in clear handwriting; it took him only an hour and a half to get it all done. He opened the potion cupboard and saw to his dismay that it was disgusting. Was this part of his job? Maybe he should do it; it couldn't hurt.

Nodding his head, he decided; going over to the sink, he poured hot water into a basin with a cleaning solution. Finding a very good scrubbing brush, he began cleaning out the potions cupboard. The floor was first; unfortunately, he couldn't do much of the walls, as they were all woodened up with shelves. He used an upturned piece of unused parchment to get rid of the cobwebs from the ceiling. Once that was done, he began removing the potion ingredients that were all in containers and jars, minding to be careful. It wasn't long before he was scrubbing away at the wooden shelves; the place was spotless in just under an hour. He spent the next half hour putting all the ingredients in alphabetically. Potion ingredients went to one side, the herbs on the other, again all alphabetically sorted. It was how his aunt always forced him to fix her spice cupboard—which she hardly touched, as it was always Harry that cooked the decent meals, through beatings and threats made on her part. Harry would have enjoyed cooking, if it hadn't been for the bloody frying pans or the rolling pins or the skillets to the head.

Petunia always used something to hit him― it started with a newspaper when he had been two, then moved on to harder and more painful objects as he got older. Harry had learned early on that Petunia was probably too weak to lay an actual finger on him. She didn't have the strength to hit him physically. She would have only hurt herself in an attempt to hurt him, and she really hated touching him too.

Finished with everything on the list, he checked it to make sure; it did only have the garden and the potion ingredients. So he went up the stairs once more and had a very quick shower, but ensured he was cleaned properly. He got dressed once again in his school clothes and left his dirty stuff folded on his bed. He wasn't sure if there was a washing machine here for him to wash his things with. He wondered if he could ask Snape, but, as usual, he nixed that; he wasn't asking anyone about anything. He had learned long ago never to ask questions, and that was definitely a question. He wondered silently as he walked down the stairs if any of the teachers had ever noticed he never raised his hand in class or asked questions. He shook off his idle thoughts and entered the dining room hesitantly, wondering if he was welcome. Snape wasn't there yet, and he didn't want to risk sitting down, so he just stood in the doorway like a spare end.

"Sit down, Potter," said the drawling voice of his Potions master behind him. He had to will his body to stop the flinch at the close proximity of the voice. That would raise alarm bells or make Snape smirk, which he didn't want.

"Yes, sir!" Harry responded. The relief in those green eyes was startling, but unfortunately the man didn't see it. He was standing behind the boy, and Harry quickly moved out of his teacher's way, making the long way around the table. He didn't like being too near adults, not when he was alone, anyway. Bad things happened to him when he was alone with them: Vernon, Quirrell, Lockhart, Moody, and Voldemort. Snape hadn't done anything per se, but then, Harry hadn't lived with him before.

"Did you do everything?" Severus asked impassively, not showing how he felt.

Harry didn't like impassive; he'd rather have sneering, sarcastic Snape—at least then he knew how he was feeling. This Snape could be close to losing his temper or in a good mood; neither sat well with him. Nonetheless, he answered his question as quickly as possible. "I did, Professor Snape."

"Very well; start your summer homework," Severus instructed; he didn't like being confused, not when it concerned this brat. The boy shouldn't have possibly been able to do that garden so quickly. It would have only taken Severus half an hour at most with magic, but doing it manually? For his first time, he'd expected it to take the child the rest of the day. The potion ingredients he had added for Harry to do after dinner, despite the fact that he wouldn't have finished the garden. Now both were done and in a very timely fashion. His godson couldn't have done it, nor did he think any student at Hogwarts could have done it so fast. He knew the boy hadn't used magic― he had watched him after all ― a good thing too, or he would have accused the boy of using magic.

"Yes, sir," Harry said automatically; his heart sank into his stomach―no food for him, then. He got up from the chair, intending on starting yet another essay, feeling disappointment welling up in him. He hated feeling like that, hated feeling anything when it came to adults who continued to let him down. However, Harry should have known better; Snape was a man of his word, Harry knew that much. He silently wished he had come to lunch. He had been too busy! He had to get everything done; food had never been a priority. In the Dursleys' household it wasn't a necessity, it was a bloody hard-earned privilege. He knew he should just be grateful to be given anything at all here.

"Where do you think you are going?" Severus snarled furiously, hiding his confusion and his indignation at the fact the boy had gotten up without first asking to be excused. Didn't those Muggles at least instill the boy with manners? He knew they had, if yesterday was anything to go by... or was the boy getting used to him, finally to bring out his old self? Severus would rather that—a brat he could handle; a respectful, silent Potter he couldn't.

Swallowing thickly Harry answered, wondering where he had gone wrong. "To do my homework, sir." A rare frown made its way onto the teenager's face, rare meaning he had shown it in front of an adult. If that had happened under the roof of Vernon Dursley, Harry would have been seeing stars.

"After dinner, Potter; I will not allow you to return to Hogwarts starved and be accused of mistreating you," Severus snarled furiously, despite the incredulity that had enveloped him. The boy had actually thought he was meant to start his homework right now? Miss his dinner? After missing his lunch as well? Surely the world had shifted on its axis. Just how bloody scared was Harry Potter of him, that he was doing everything he was told without protest? Usually it would have filled Severus with glee at the thought of the Potter brat's being scared of him, but right now… it was a rather frightening sight to behold, considering he knew Potter had taken on Voldemort a grand total of four times, three of which he could remember, and that had happened in the last four years. The only reprieve Potter had ever had was in third year; even then there still had been someone thought to be a Death Eater after him.

"Yes, sir," Harry said, and Severus could hear the relief in the boy's voice.

Nothing was said after that. Severus was very deep in thought as he ate dinner almost automatically. He didn't know what to think; the Harry Potter he knew at Hogwarts was very different from the one he was seeing now. He wished he knew if it was because the brat was scared of him, or if it was because of the Dark Lord. The thought of the bloody brat being scared of him rubbed him up the wrong way. He wanted the boy to hate him, loathe him even, but to be afraid of him? He had never contemplated that idea. Right now the idea had very big merits; he had never seen the boy so downtrodden and scared before. He couldn't have broken the boy with a bit of hard work, surely? No, he had been quiet and sullen since he'd arrived. After dessert was finished, he snarled as he left the room, feeling very angry and agitated for reasons he couldn't quite understand.

Harry warily walked up the stairs to his room, keeping his eye out for Snape. The mood he was in reminded him of Vernon before he began beating him for no good reason. He shuddered at the memory of the last time; that had caused three broken ribs, a broken nose (which he had fixed by himself, painfully so) a black eye, and a broken arm. Of course he had still been forced to do his chores, only they took him longer than normal. As soon as he was in his room, he shut the door and let out a breath of relief so profound that he was shaking as he sat down on the chair, put away his now-dry Charms homework, and began his Transfiguration essay. He didn't stop until he'd finished the required length, adding just a little bit more than necessary. His body was trembling, his eyes barely able to remain open. His heart was beating too fast still, even an hour and a half later, to sleep, even if he had wished it. He left his homework to dry, and fed and watered Hedwig, giving her some treats. Hedwig was used to bathroom water; it's what he had to give her at the Dursleys'. Sometimes he managed to buy a bottle of water when shopping for his aunt, but not often. Thankfully Hedwig could, for the most part, hunt for herself, so the food he bought normally lasted her a year. The window was still open, her cage too; he did the toilet, making sure it was still all right to leave his room. It wasn't nine o'clock yet, so he was safe.

Nightly rituals done, he slipped into the bed after turning the light off and saying goodnight to Hedwig. Eventually the fear wore off Harry; his professor's snarl for no good reason had wound him up like a bomb waiting to go off. Even now he was waiting for Snape to come and take his frustrations out on him; it was all he'd ever known, so he didn't expect any less. Wide green eyes stared transfixed at the door; the clock ticked constantly, a loud, irritating noise. The hours went by; before long it was nearly midnight. Harry was still taut as a bow when unconsciousness finally claimed him, his body's exhaustion finally just sweeping up and overtaking any fear he had and washing it away with fatigue. Harry just wanted to feel numb, as in the hour after he had escaped Voldemort. The adrenaline had left him after he'd gotten back to Hogwarts; even when Moody had turned into Crouch, he had just felt numb, not scared as he should have been. Harry couldn't help but wish he was always like that; he hated being scared, fearful, and in pain all the time. Now that he had experienced happiness, love, and excitement, it was worse feeling pain or being fearful. At the Dursleys' for eleven years, he had been able to cope with it; only after being at Hogwarts for a year had he begun hating being scared or fearful. Four years on it was still the same; something had changed. Hope, maybe? He wouldn't know.

Harry woke up screaming at five o'clock the next morning, fear once again circulating around him. Petrified he had woken Snape up, once again he held his breath and stayed very still for almost twenty minutes. Gulping back the worry and fear, he got up and did the same as before. This time it was his Divination homework; he was avoiding the Potions one. He knew he should just get it done and out of the way, but he wanted to do his best, he didn't want Snape to have an excuse to hurt him. They weren't in Hogwarts, and thanks to Dumbledore, he was entirely at Snape's mercy. Snape knew this, and would get away with whatever he did; that thought scared the living daylights out of him. So no, he wouldn't give the man any excuse; he would do anything and everything he was told, even if it left him exhausted ― he was used to it. If Snape wanted to beat him, then it would be for nothing, just as Vernon had always done. Harry had made sure to do everything right, apart from the worst days where Vernon had asked the impossible with so many chores.

It was only then he noticed the clothes, the ones he had worn yesterday; both sets were clean, ironed, and folded on the chair beside his desk. Relief tore through Harry; that was one less thing he would need to worry about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Jordre and Jake for editing this


	3. Chapter 3

A New Place To Stay 

Chapter 3 

Exhaustion and nightmares―will they become too much?

 

Harry made it down in time for breakfast, and, as usual, his Potions professor was already there. He didn't like the close scrutiny his teacher was paying him; he sat down, ignoring it, murmuring a quiet "good morning." As yesterday, Snape only nodded his head curtly. Either he wasn't a morning person, or the sight of Harry was making his morning hell. His uncle, too, was always like that: happy until he caught sight of him, then a scowl would live permanently on his features. Harry waited patiently for food, still in awe that he was actually getting fed three times a day here. Perhaps he wouldn't have to build up his appetite when he got back to Hogwarts; at least he could avoid Hermione's nagging to eat more, or feel sick with the amount of food Ron would fist into his gaping, needy maw. If Ron hadn't been so tall and active, Harry knew he would be like Dudley Dursley, a fat pig who only thought about food all the time.

Severus watched the teenager cautiously. Where were the sore muscles? The aches that should be present in a boy who hadn't done a hard day's work before? Where were the moans that he was sore and didn't want to do anything today? Instead of making sense, everything seemed to be getting more puzzling. Severus didn't like puzzles; he worked hard to keep the frown off his face; he didn't want Harry to know he was bothering him. He wasn't about to let the boy win this absurd game he was playing... if he was even playing a game.

The only indication Severus got that Harry was sore from yesterday was the blisters he had on his hands. He noticed how delicately he picked up the fork as he ate, finding a better position; other than that, he seemed unbothered by them. He was half tempted to make the boy keep them, let them heal naturally, but he wasn't a bastard, unfortunately. He summoned a potion for Harry to spread on the blisters.

"Put that on," Severus said curtly, throwing the tub at Harry, which, with well-honed Quidditch reflexes, he caught. Seeing the shocked look from the teenager, he once again clamped down on the anger; the boy really did think he was a monster who would allow him to suffer, didn't he? Honestly, the boy was exactly like his father: he didn't appreciate anything. After all those times he had saved the boy's life, you'd think he'd trust him just a little. Did he ever hear a thank you? No, the boy just continued his arrogance.

The teenager did what he was told, and Severus saw how bad they were for the first time. He had to withhold a wince; there were about twelve blisters on his hands, some rather big-looking. He spread the potion on them gently, and watched them disappearing; Severus was sure he caught a glint of something in the once-again-emotionless face. It couldn't possibly have been awe? Could it? He was very taken aback.

"Thank you very much, Professor Snape," Harry said kindly; it was probably the longest sentence he had uttered since he'd gotten there. To say he had been shocked when he was handed a potion to help his hands would have been an understatement. No one had ever helped him before, not with something so small, anyway. Sure, Madam Pomfrey had healed him when he'd had very bad injuries that the school was required to treat. These had just been blisters though, and hardly painful, yet Snape was giving him help. It touched him in ways he didn't even want to think about; unwillingly he began thinking about how it was that family treated one another, like a father treating his son or daughter for even the smallest hurt—like the time Ron had gotten a finger bitten by a garden gnome, and his mother had healed it right away. Harry shook away the horrifying thoughts of Snape as a father figure; he barely withheld a snort― his teacher hated him with a vengeance. Harry knew by now it was something to do with his father; after all, he'd told him often enough.

Harry ate breakfast, able to eat more than he had yesterday, but still not enough for a growing boy his age. Severus wanted to demand that the boy eat it all, but it would make him look concerned, so he resisted. He didn't even think about the fact that he had just given Potter a potion to help his blisters; he just chalked that up to not wanting the brat to think he actually was a monster. Not that he, Severus Snape, would ever see a child in any type of pain.

Once breakfast was finished, Severus handed over a piece of paper again, so off Harry went to another part of the garden today. He was basically weeding, planting, and watering all the already-existing plant beds. He didn't mind doing any of it; he just wished he could find a wheelbarrow. Just as he had filled the two watering cans, a house-elf popped into view with a hose.

Harry's jaw dropped; that was surprising. He knew most of the blisters were due to the watering cans.

"There is a tap just down there. The hose will extend indefinitely," Rose the house-elf curtly said before popping away. All the house-elves had been named after flowers, of course, apart from Lily. Severus would never name any house-elf after Lily; she was too pure and good to be thought of in line with a house-elf.

Harry laughed before he could stop himself, not just a small laugh, but a full-blown belly-laugh. Tears were running down his face; he was choking, and he wheezed trying to get his breath back. That house-elf had sounded like Snape... his house-elves sounded like him. He didn't understand why he found it so funny, but it was the funniest thing he had heard in ages. It was the first time in almost a year that he'd laughed, and he had never laughed with such carefree abandon in his life. Gladly putting the water in the watering can back into the well, he lugged the hose over to the tap, and attached it. To Harry's astonishment, he found the house-elf was right; the hose did extend as far as he needed it to. Leaving the hose at the side, he went back to the watering can; the garden was huge. It was all around this big place; he had only been tending to the front. It said PM on the gates; he wasn't sure what it meant, but he was sure it wasn't "Potions Master." He would find out, in a few days' time, that it was actually "Prince Manor,"

He quickly began weeding the garden; some of the weeds were quite big, so it mustn't be a big thing for the house-elves ― doing the garden, that was. Inside was astonishing and very beautiful, and also very well-kept. He never saw his Potions professor, and wondered silently where he was and what he did all day. If he was honest, he would rather know if Snape was always watching or not so he could bloody well relax for at least an hour.

Once he was done, he left the pulled weeds in the big bin he saw; the grass, too, had been put there yesterday, as well. After that he watered the area, using the hose, putting it on the shower setting. The flowers were beautiful; he hadn't seen many used in potions, but had ground them up once during detention—the one with the blue petals, if he remembered right, which he was sure he did. He hadn't known Snape loved his potions that much; he actually planted everything that could be used. He saw a load of poison ivy: leaves of three, leave them be. He hadn't known you could get them in the UK, so either he had it wrong, or they had been imported. That wouldn't surprise Harry personally; just how rich was his Potions Master? Not that it mattered to him, he supposed, as he began planting. He preferred to use seeds; the plants seemed to hate coming out of their little containers. He was petrified that if the plant died, he would be blamed. His aunt loved looking for anything to give him a row for; he knew Snape was the same, especially when it came to his potions, which weren't his fault! The Slytherins continued to put ingredients into his potions by flicking them over, thus ruining them.

Harry noticed that his arms were turning brown, which was odd, as he didn't go brown. He usually went red, he usually burned ― he was, after all, very fair― but not today, it seemed. Maybe it was because he didn't spend all day in the same place, or maybe it was the magic around the area. He would never understand it; he had rolled up his t-shirt's short sleeves, so that as much of his arms as possible could be cool.

\--------0

As soon as he moved away from the dining area, Severus floo'ed out of the Manor. He spent the day collecting what potion ingredients he could. There was no way he was paying for ingredients from that blasted apothecary when he could collect them for nothing. He didn't even go home for lunch, but ate at the Leaky Cauldron, apparating to wherever he needed to go. He even used nettles and dandelions for his potions; all-natural ingredients were used. The juice of the stem was very handy in potions, but difficult to extract in any decent amount. His mind kept wandering to the boy working hard at his manor; he felt small flashes of guilt for making the boy work all summer, when no doubt most children were doing whatever they wanted. But Potter had gotten away with that for too long. No doubt he was missing being pampered at his family's home; this would be good character-building for him.

Severus wasn't one to let people laze about; he was firm with his Slytherins, and he was firm with whomever stayed in his home. He would let the boy do what he liked over the weekend, after a week's worth of work. It would be a well-deserved rest, but a rest nonetheless; he might even give the boy his broom for the day. If he continued the way he was doing, completing his work without complaint and being― well, only one word for it― quiet.

Severus liked his silence during the summer, even if this silence was daunting and worrying. He liked this quiet Potter, the one that did what he was told and didn't backchat or disobey him. Just because he liked the boy's current behavior, though, didn't make everything all right. The boy was being very strange, and Severus swore, if it was the last thing he did, he would find out what that boy was up to. It went against everything that Potter was: loudmouthed, overbearing, a rule-breaker, cheeky, cocky, and defiant.

He knew he didn't have much else for Harry to do; the gardening was something he thought Potter would do, and he was out in the sunshine at least, not locked away in a manor. Now he was finished with everything; perhaps he should get the boy to build something else, a pond perhaps? Or something similar? It would certainly take time; he hadn't had a long time to plan this. Dumbledore had asked him up to his office after the leaving feast and all but told him Potter was moving in with him until Death Eater activity around Privet Drive stopped, using the one trigger-word that would work: Lily Evan's name. He wasn't going to be able to spend all his time at the Manor; much of the time he was going to be at Order meetings or Death-Eater meetings, brewing potions for Poppy and then brewing what potions he actually wanted to make, plus making sure he had the time to do the tasks the Dark Lord set out for him. Yes, life had just gotten so much busier in the space of the fortnight since Cedric Diggory had died.

Thankfully, the Dark Lord wasn't strong enough to call his Death Eaters often, or demand they go out on raids or anything like that yet. The Order meetings consisted of listening to the members blabbing like idiots, wondering how to stop the second uprising of Voldemort.

Polishing off the lunch he had just eaten, he went to the apothecary and got himself the ingredients he wanted, a new cauldron, and five new glass stirrers, as the ones he had were a little worse for wear, and that wasn't good for potions. Knives of gold, bronze, and silver were soon added and paid for.

Once he had shrunk everything down, he apparated away to a side street. It was odd, that street, or most muggles thought so. The number 12 wasn't visible on any house; they didn't realize it was there, but just under the Fidelius, or Secret-Keeper spell. Severus entered the home of Sirius Black and grimaced in disgust; his last name hadn't been truer before.

"Severus, any news?" Dumbledore asked, sitting at the head of the table and looking more self-important than ever. People were sitting talking softly, drinking coffee and eating biscuits, no doubt baked and produced by Molly. Even Severus had to admit she was a brilliant cook. He was surprised Potter was as skinny as he was, with her around to baby him and feed him up.

"Nothing; you know as well as I that he will be recuperating for months. Just because he used Potter's blood doesn't make him suddenly strong. He's spent thirteen years as a spirit; trying to use an Unforgivable on the boy only hindered him," Severus explained, his lip curling in distaste at the few Order members still talking away—Fletcher and Diggle, if he was correct.

"Unforgivables, Snape!" Sirius snarled, his blue eyes flashing. "Do not downplay what my godson went through!"

Severus' onyx eyes glittered in silent fury. How dare Black pretend to be the concerned godfather he'd never been! He had pissed away Potter's third year and had only gotten back from the tropics in time for the final task. It was a good job that the Dursley family had given him the family he needed, even if they spoiled him, or Black's abandonment for the past two years could have done goodness-knew-what to the boy.

"Excuse me?" Severus hissed very softly; the room went abnormally quiet. Everyone knew those two hated each other and always would. Even Dumbledore couldn't get them to behave themselves; there was just too much hate for even an adult to handle.

"Your Master," drawled Sirius, "used all three curses on him. Two failed: the Imperius curse when he tried to get Harry to bow to him, then, of course, the killing curse when he Portkeyed away. Unfortunately, Harry ended up feeling the effects of the Cruciatus curse twice." The voice that had been sarcastic seconds before sounded choked up.

"Yet you thought I'd better bounce off after Lupin and forget about your godson," Severus sneered in disgust. He would never do that to Draco; Light or Dark, he had a responsibility to that boy until he was seventeen years old. Black had failed at every opportunity to get to know Potter. He didn't care about Potter and Black's relationship, but it was the principle of the thing. Potter needed someone who could understand; the Muggles, as much as they tried, couldn't. Not many people could truly understand what Potter was going through, and of course he wasn't going to be one of them, he thought adamantly as he watched Sirius Black, satisfied at having riled him up.

Severus winced sympathetically in his mind. That spell was bloody awful; it shouldn't have been invented, and no fourteen-year-old kid should have experienced it. Voldemort hadn't tortured children before; hell, he hadn't killed one, either, until the Prophecy had come along. Wizards and witches that got in his way—sure, they had paid the price; the Muggles, though, had died needless deaths because Voldemort had been feeling vindictive. The raids had been the worst, really, but thankfully he'd never had to join in or take part in anything.

"I did what I was told to do, Snape! Harry was fine at Hogwarts," Sirius adamantly insisted.

Severus didn't bother correcting Black; anyone could see the brat wasn't all right. He had just seen the man who wanted to kill him brought back, and had managed to escape with his life. If Black truly wanted to delude himself that Harry was all right, then so be it. Old fool that he was, it didn't matter; he shook those thoughts off.

"So what else has happened? How are we going to get ready to defend everyone from You-Know-Who?" Minerva McGonagall, Transfiguration teacher and Head of Gryffindor House, asked; she was a fair but strict witch with a taste for shortbread and Scottish tea. Right at that moment, she sounded very stupid saying you-know-who as if she was afraid of him; Severus knew she was a formidable witch and could give Voldemort a run for his money.

"Well, Remus and I are going over all his old attacks, trying to distinguish patterns," Shacklebolt told her.

"We did that last time," Sirius protested, frowning. "It was a waste of time."

"We think we might be able to pull out a pattern," Remus countered, his amber eyes rolling up into his head in exasperation; he truly didn't like how daft Sirius could be sometimes.

"Fine," Sirius shrugged, not at all fussy. Severus had to stop himself from snarling at the bastard; he truly did hate Black. He hated Black more than he hated James Bloody Potter, and that was saying something. After all, James Potter had taken away his Lily; she would have been his if Potter had stayed away. She would have forgiven him and married him, and Harry Potter would have been his.

Unfortunately, that hadn't happened; he shrugged off his depressing thoughts and listened to the useless Order prattling on about everything.

"There's only so much we can do without the Ministry… they are adamant about Voldemort's NOT being back… is there any way we can convince them? Get Potter under Veritaserum or something?" Shacklebolt asked hopefully.

"I don't want Harry near the Ministry," Dumbledore said, sounding very adamant.

"It will help us if we do!" Shacklebolt said, exasperated.

"We need to warn people and have all the help we can get! We didn't do much during the last war; we have an opportunity to do it right this time around," Tonks said, backing Shacklebolt up.

"Fudge would cover it up anyway," Moody grunted, his magical eye looking around the house, making sure it was safe. He wasn't looking forward to yet another war, but the battle-hardened part of him was: finally, a chance to take down more Death Eaters. He had tried to catch Malfoy the last time, and hadn't been able to. So this time he was determined to get the slimy blond in Azkaban before long.

"True," Minerva nodded grudgingly, knowing Moody had a good point.

"Who's training Potter?" Moody asked, not even acknowledging the fact that McGonagall had spoken.

"Training?" Dumbledore asked, looking at his old friend as if he had lost his mind.

"He's gonna be after the kid; if he's to have any chance of survival, he needs training," Moody barked, making nearly every single Order member jump in fright, apart from Severus Snape and Dumbledore. "Voldemort won't be happy he got away yet again."

"You can say that again," Severus snorted; despite the snort, his face showed how serious he was. The boy was safe at his manor for the summer. Come time to go back to Hogwarts, he would be in danger ― all around him, not just by the usual Slytherins― not all Death Eaters were Slytherins, after all. Pettigrew was a fine example of that. He grimaced at the thought of the rat. He'd had to physically stop himself from killing the bastard that had betrayed Lily. He rather valued staying alive and ensuring the bastard who actually had killed her was brought down. Life was rather ironic: Voldemort killed Lily, and she was avenged by her one-year-old son.

"He won't be getting trained. Not yet; I want him to have a chance at a childhood," Dumbledore said; his eyes were solemn and sad.

"He won't be anything if he doesn't get trained," Moody bluntly argued.

"He's just a child! He shouldn't be getting trained in anything! Hogwarts will keep him safe!" Molly snapped angrily. "I wouldn't let my Ronnie go through it, so Harry shouldn't have to either!"

"Voldemort doesn't even know who your brat is!" Severus sneered bitterly, "He knows exactly who Potter is, though, and he will do anything to kill him. Do you realize how many times he has managed to foil Voldemort's plans? Four times." Despite everything, Severus had a grudging respect for Potter for those acts alone. Besting Voldemort once took courage, but four times? Well, he'd done it more than anyone else alive, and he was only fourteen years old.

Molly looked ready to explode, but Arthur just put a calming hand on her. Huffing in disgust, she promptly turned away and ignored Severus, and Severus just sneered. That was a very Gryffindor move, turning one's back on an opponent in disgust. He could see where the rest of the Weasleys got their revolting manners from.

"Will Harry even be able to come to us for any time this summer?" Arthur asked ―he had promised his daughter the boy would.

"No," Severus said before even Dumbledore could open his mouth, which surprised almost everyone there. He sneered at all the looks he was getting; honestly, he did want the wizarding world to survive, thank you.

"It's nothing to do with you, Snape!" Sirius sneered furiously.

"You didn't tell them?" Severus asked, his face impassive as he looked at Dumbledore, hiding his anger and incredulity: anger at the old fool for keeping it a secret, and incredulity that Potter hadn't told Black. He hadn't even complained in a letter to the mutt that he was treating him like a slave, or being mean and nasty taking away his things, or even to Weasley? He was sure Weasley would have complained to mummy, and poor mummy would have screamed at Dumbledore like a banshee. Then again, Severus would have paid big money to see that; needless to say, he was in shock. He was, now more than ever, positive that there was something wrong with the boy.

"Tell us what?" Remus asked, his voice going low; no one in the history of the world could make his voice go that low and still sound like the friendliest person on the planet. He stared between Snape and Dumbledore; Severus could see the realization dawning on the wolf's face and wanted to smirk in feral amusement.

"Harry isn't at the Dursleys' this summer," Dumbledore admitted softly, before continuing on with his explanation. "There has been Death Eater activity around the area; Figg has been keeping an eye out. Better safe than sorry; I'm not sure the wards are safe enough." His voice was soothing and grave, commanding nearly everyone's attention.

"Why isn't he here? It's under the Fidelius!" Sirius demanded furiously.

"So were the Potters," Severus sneered; he blamed Black for their deaths: if he hadn't bloody suggested Pettigrew, they would have been fine. Black and his bloody scheming had cost Lily her life; he believed that. It was another reason to hate Black with every iota of his being.

"Shut it, Snivellus!" snarled Sirius, trying to get up, his eyes narrowed in disgust and distaste.

Severus snarled furiously, fingering his wand, dangerously close to losing control. He hated that name with a vengeance; it hadn't gotten easier hearing it since he was eleven years old. He wasn't going to put up with it throughout the entire war. He turned to Dumbledore, a look of rage in his eyes and he told the old fool that.

"I'm leaving; anything you want to say, you can say it to me. I'm not putting up with that bastard during the war. I put up with him throughout my school years; I don't have to do it now," Severus sneered, getting up and walking out of Grimmauld Place and apparating away.

"He does have a point, we cannot keep fighting among ourselves," Shacklebolt said, looking at Sirius in disgust. This was a grown man, the same age as the man that had just left. Hell, Sirius was older than he, and that was saying something. Severus Snape wasn't someone you wanted to alienate; he was the only one who brought back any decent information.

"Until you can curb your tongue, Sirius, I no longer want you attending meetings," Dumbledore declared, barely holding onto his anger. Snape was the one person whose information they relied on. Without Snape, the Order was practically useless, and he knew that.

"Why does he get to have my godson?" Sirius snapped furiously.

"Shut up, Sirius," Remus harshly demanded, trying to tug Sirius back into his seat.

"Would you rather see him dead at the hands of the Death Eaters at his home in Privet Drive?" Dumbledore asked calmly; his face, normally cheerful, was very blank.

"No, but he could come here! Bring him here!" Sirius angrily protested.

"He stays where he's protected; the manor is very old and the wards have accumulated over the years. Nowhere could be safer; the Manor is more protected than here or even Malfoy Manor... not that I'd place him there," Dumbledore's voice was harsh and final.

"Sirius!" Remus snarled when he noticed Sirius had opened his mouth once more.

"Fine!" Sirius hissed, sitting down but looking furious. As soon as the Order meeting was finished, he was going to write to his godson and make sure Snape wasn't abusing him ― he wouldn't put it past the bastard. He had always been jealous of him and James. Only Sirius Black could mistake psychotic rage for jealousy.

\-------0

Harry got everything done for the day; he trudged up the stairs, exhaustion written all over his body and face. He was half-tempted just to flop down on the bed and sleep―he hadn't slept much yesterday or the days before that. He was used to it, but it was becoming too much for him; he felt ready to collapse. He only wished he had the guts to go down to the dungeon and get a vial of Dreamless Sleep. He'd had it the night after the tournament, and boy, it had been the best sleep he had ever had. All year he was up at six o'clock at school; during the summer it was the same, getting breakfast ready for the Dursleys while his aunt watched. Harry didn't even know the meaning of a long lie-in, but the dreamless sleeping potion had had him sleeping for twelve straight hours.

Instead of falling on the bed, he showered, and made sure his hands were in pristine condition before walking down the stairs. He found his professor sitting in his chair, and Harry made his way around, not even having the energy to say hello. Snape didn't look like he was in a good mood, so Harry wanted to avoid making the man angry.

The dinner was beautiful― beef, asparagus, and baby potatoes― and Harry had never had anything like it in his life. Dessert was plain yoghurt added to whatever fruit he wanted; Harry loved it even more, and he could have eaten it all. He didn't have much of the yoghurt, but the fruit he ate; the rhubarb he wasn't keen on and avoided that.

"Go to bed, Potter," Severus said. He could see exhaustion written all over the teen; the fact that he was struggling to keep his eyes open was just one sign. The boy looked relaxed, despite how tired he looked, which made Severus curious. He wanted to ask the boy why he hadn't contacted anyone yet, moaning about him, but he refused to open his mouth. He didn't want to admit to the boy that Dumbledore hadn't told anyone and that no one had a clue he was here... or hadn't had a clue. He had been under the impression Potter and his mutt were close. How close could they be if the mutt hadn't known? Severus was getting very annoyed with all the questions swirling around his head and not getting answers. He would just have to watch the brat and find out for himself, and find out he would, even if it killed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to Jake and Jordre for editing A New Place To Stay :)


	4. Chapter 4

A New Place To Stay

Chapter 4 

Days Gone By 

 

Two days had gone by; Harry was finding himself rather confused. Snape watched him constantly. It wasn't his usual cold, hard stare, but something else; Harry wasn't sure what it was, but whatever it was, it hadn't been directed his way before. It certainly wasn't Snape's usual hatred, and Harry didn't think it boded well for him. For the past few days he'd worked in the garden making a pond; Harry was rather curious about it― were there magical fish that could be used in potions? He never asked, though. He had gone to lunch those two days, as his Potions Master had been 'conveniently' nearby when it was nearly time, and had told him to get himself cleaned up. After lunch Snape showed him the library and gave him three defence books to read.

Severus had heard Dumbledore's words during the Order meeting, and he was disobeying the old fool. He wanted Potter to survive; he had sworn to protect Lily's brat, half-James or not. His vow to Lily was the reason he still breathed; he had no other reason to live, which was partly why he had stopped himself from killing Pettigrew; the other part was his Slytherin sense of self-preservation. No, he would ensure Voldemort was killed, hope Potter survived, and maybe, just maybe, he would have done enough to earn Lily's forgiveness. So he had told the boy to read the books, and he had every intention of quizzing the brat. It kept him busy until dinner, and then he told the boy to do his school work, and go to bed. Curiously enough, he never heard the boy coming out of his room after nine o'clock; he heard him coming out about ten to nine going to the toilet, and that was it for the night. Severus wasn't sure what to think of Potter anymore; he hadn't disobeyed even one of his rules. Watching him hadn't revealed anything either; the boy worked, did everything he was told... it was like watching a machine! He didn't drink or eat apart from at meals, and was very respectful. Severus was beginning to think that it wasn't the Potter boy that had come back.

"Have you finished your homework, Potter?" Severus smoothly asked.

"Yes, sir," Harry responded very quickly and defensively, as if he expected Snape to jump down his throat.

Severus raised an eyebrow at the tone of the answer. The boy was very prickly with him, especially when answering questions; it wasn't right that the boy was being so quiet. Perhaps he was missing his Muggle friends and family; he wondered silently if he could get Dumbledore to let the brat spend a few days there with an emergency Portkey on hand. It truly wasn't fair to keep a fourteen-year-old boy locked up and shielded away for nearly three months. He had to remind himself that this wasn't Potter's fault, or idea, come to that. When Dumbledore insisted, he always got his way; it didn't matter what anyone said, even Potter.

"All of it?" Severus asked in surprise. It was only four days into the holiday; surely the boy hadn't completed all his assignments.

"Yes, sir," Harry confirmed, nodding adamantly.

"I would like to see them after breakfast; you will be working in the potions lab today," Severus curtly informed his unwelcome guest.

"Yes, sir," Harry said right away. Four days into the holiday and he hadn't been punished once, for a real offence or an imaginary one ― for Harry that was a record. The most he could go was one day back at the Dursleys'. Not even one day; Vernon just loved beating him and would find any excuse, no matter how half-assed it was, to do it. The beating wasn't so bad when he knew Vernon had made it up, but it made him feel like more of a freak if it had been some offence he actually had committed, like not finishing his chores on time.

Some time later Harry was in the potions lab dealing with the ingredients; they were different from any he had dealt with before. Nonetheless, he dug into it, doing what he had to do. Getting the juice out of the stem of a plant was harder than it looked, and it sure made a job hard as well. Only a little juice came out; halfway through, the vial wasn't even half full.

\--------0

Severus sat down on the chair, staring at the scrolls in surprise; the boy truly had done all his assignments. No doubt they were done very poorly as usual; Potter wasn't any good at doing proper assignments during the holidays. The potions essays he always demanded be done were a disgrace. Not that the boy ever bothered about it, and he had enough grading to do without making the boy re-write it. He had written the boy off and graded him with what he deserved.

So without more ado he opened Harry's potions scroll, quill at the ready to begin the insults, the barbs, and telling Potter how bad his homework was, as usual. However, he had to eat his own words when he began reading. Twenty minutes later, his jaw was practically unhinged; the boy never did well in Potions, yet here he hadn't even made a single mistake. Not with the spelling, the properties, or the correct way to ensure it was even more potent than the original recipe indicated. Severus had never seen such dedicated work from Potter before, and he wanted answers, so much so that he actually began making his way down to the dungeons.

Walking in, he saw Harry working, but his hands were shaking, and he looked terrified. Severus felt his heart twist seeing those green eyes so fearful, was it directed at him? He decided to ignore the look for now, so he gathered his wits around him and approached the bench, deciding to think more about the brat's reaction later.

"This, Potter, is very well done," Severus said, indicating the potions homework he held in his hands.

Harry looked up, shock written across his features; it was probably the nicest thing his professor had said to him before in his life. "Thank you, Professor," Harry murmured quietly; pride was beginning to squirm in his stomach. It must have been really good for his professor to actually come to him and say so.

"Why haven't you displayed this knowledge in class? Or on previous essays?" Severus demanded. This paper was better than the ones his own Slytherins turned in, and no one had ever found out the way to make it more potent before, apart from a select few who had done well in Potions. Unfortunately, Potions was a dying art, and it was very seldom that it was done properly.

Harry looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights now. Harry couldn't tell him the reason: During the summer he was locked away or doing chores; during the year he was too busy trying to stay alive, keep Hogwarts open, or just trying to get his work done—which was hard to do in a crowded, loud Gryffindor common room, especially with Ron about. Or the juicier worm: he was used to not doing his best because his aunt and uncle continued to beat him for doing better than his cousin—which wasn't hard to do, considering his cousin was as stupid as he was big.

"I would like a verbal answer, Mr. Potter," Severus prompted quite harshly.

Swallowing nervously, he stuttered, "I don't know."

Severus noticed a curious thing: the boy was getting paler, and he kept peeking in the corner. He looked himself, only to be confused even more; it was a large cauldron; nothing scary about that. Severus turned back to look at those green eyes and delved in a little. What he saw made him want to lose his breakfast: Pettigrew cutting his hand off, Harry's arm getting sliced open, then Voldemort rising from a man-sized cauldron. No wonder the child was scared; without even missing a beat he sent the cauldron to the cupboard. "From now on your work had better be as good as this, Mr. Potter. Now that I know what you are capable of, I will ensure you continue to do so," Snape said severely. After seeing that work Potter had just done, damn straight he was going to. From what he had been able gather previously, apart from Defence, Potter was a mediocre student at best. This work certainly wasn't from a student who was just getting by, and he still didn't have his damn answer.

"Yes, sir," Harry said agreeably. He had to get better if he was to defeat Voldemort, he realized that now. The defence books he had been reading were great, with fantastic new spells he had never heard of. He loved Defence; it was the one class he didn't hold back in, because it was expected of Harry Potter to be brilliant at it. He didn't like it, but he was beginning to like staying here, and he didn't want that at all, because he knew that, sooner or later, something bad was going to happen. It always did.

"Good," Severus said, calming down once he got Harry's promise. "Would you like to brew a potion?" he asked; he wanted to see if Potter could apply himself to the practical work, not just the written.

"Yes, sir," Harry replied, shock clear as day in his voice.

And that was how they spent the afternoon, completely immersed in potions, forgetting the outside world, forgetting lunch, and forgetting that there would be an upcoming war soon. More importantly, the hate they felt for one another was forgotten temporarily too.

"Well done, Potter; go get showered and dressed for dinner," Severus smoothly directed, after they had finished bottling up the potions. The filled vials were lying in the corner cooling, ready for transportation to Hogwarts.

"Okay, sir," Harry said, walking out the room. Severus stopped cleaning as soon as the boy was gone. He stood with his hands supporting his weight as he thought about everything. The brat had never shown promise in potions before; never in all his life had Severus been more confused. The blasted Dark Lord made more sense than Harry Potter was making, and the old red-eyed, snake-faced bastard was insane, so that was saying something.

He looked at the potions the brat had brewed― a seventh-year potion, a potion they didn't brew until they were seventeen― without a problem. He had never been that good; half his potions were a useless lump of mess. The other half were barely passable, and he couldn't even accuse the brat of cheating: Granger wasn't here.

Severus Snape growled; he did not like to be baffled, confused, or proven wrong.

\------------0

 

"We will go to Diagon Alley sometime in the next fortnight for your new clothes, when I have free time," Severus curtly remarked; he was sick of seeing the boy in the same clothes. It had only been four days, but it was getting on his nerves, especially seeing the boy in black; it made the boy look even more depressed than normal.

"Yes, sir," Harry agreed more quietly than usual; he had hoped Snape had forgotten about that. He would just have to get the cheapest things available and work during his summer holidays in the Muggle world. Dumbledore wouldn't let him work in the Wizarding world; he silently wondered where he would be after his sixth year. Would he still be staying at Prince Manor? Or would Dumbledore find somewhere else for him? He hated this, the unknown, being shoved from pillar to post. Was he ever going to have a place to call home? A room he could make a mess of, or do what he liked in? Not that he would make a mess, he couldn't; unfortunately cleanliness had been beaten into him since he'd been a child. He didn't know how to make a mess; even his area of the dorm room was tidy—the only part of the room that was clean. Ron's area was the worst; he didn't know how to clean up after himself.

Severus frowned, Potter sounded more downtrodden than ever― what was wrong with the boy? Shouldn't the prospect of going out and spending his money sound like fun to him? He remembered when he had first been able to spend money, and he had loved it. Was it because he was under the impression he was going with him? Well, he was, but he wasn't going to shadow the boy every move he took. Okay, maybe he was; the risk of the Death Eaters' attacking was too much.

Harry ate the rest of his meal in silence― salmon with a nice cream sauce and a jacket potato. This was followed quickly by dessert― toffee Pavlova and strawberry cheesecake with a scoop of whipped cream. Once again it was something Harry had never had, and he enjoyed them immensely. They served mostly the same things at Hogwarts, such as chips, curries, sandwiches and all sorts of meats; those meals weren't as good as the food served here. It could be due to the number of students; despite what one might think, there were only around fifty house-elves in Hogwarts, yet there were over two hundred students for them to cook for.

"What do I do at night, sir, now that I've finished my homework?" Harry asked quietly as he put down his spoon after swallowing his last piece of dessert.

"It's entirely up to you, Potter. If you wish, you may take some books from my library, as long as you take care of them," Severus suggested smoothly, hoping the child would at least do something productive, such as pick ones about defence or advanced charms, not that he would find many about Quidditch in his library. Snape wasn't a Quidditch fan; he'd rather read proper books; a book about flying was not a book to read. Of course Potter might disagree, considering what book he had found the boy with in his first year. He had taken the book, rather spitefully; even at the age of eleven, the boy had resembled and acted too much like the elder Potter for comfort. He had wanted the boy to be more like Lily, but it had never happened. The closest he had ever come was that good homework and decent brewing.

Right now the boy wasn't acting like either parent; both had been loud and boisterous, especially Lily, who had babbled over life and magic with enthusiasm. James had been an arrogant toe rag, but still loud nonetheless.

"Yes, sir!" Harry grinned, looking happy for the first time, and Severus was greatly taken aback. Surely the br…boy couldn't be that happy about the prospect of reading, surely? Unless he was planning something. Suspicion gnawed at him until he remembered he had the boy's wand. He calmed down somewhat and drank the rest of his coffee before getting up.

Harry went up to the library very happy; finally he could find out how Snape had done that to the clothes. Perhaps he might even be able to read a few books on defence. He knew he was going to have to get better; he shuddered anew at remembering how defenceless he had felt, only knowing one truly decent spell that would save him. It wouldn't have worked if his hadn't been the brother wand to Voldemort's. He knew he had been affected by what had happened; what was worse, nobody seemed to care. Perhaps Snape did, just a little; he had banished the big cauldron. Harry hadn't been able to help himself; earlier he had half expected Voldemort to come rising from it. His nightmares were getting worse, but he had nobody to talk to; maybe Hermione might be able to help, but no. Nobody expected the hero to be weak, to have nightmares; it just couldn't be done. No, he couldn't tell Hermione, or anyone for that matter... A mournful sigh left his lips― no one could ever understand him.

He began browsing the huge library. He found an interesting-looking book about wands; he took it. He picked up two on Defence Against the Dark Arts and one for Advanced Charms. Having the books he wanted, he left the library and went to his room. Putting them on his table, in a different pile from his own, he sat down in his comfortable chair and began reading the one on wands.

Some time later, his reading was interrupted by a firm knock on his door

"Come in," Harry called cautiously; why was Snape knocking at his door? Did he want him to do something? Was he about to be punished? He had done his chores. He was about to work himself into a panic, but before he could, Snape walked in with his homework scrolls and placed them on the table. He watched his teacher warily as he inspected the room and nodded his approval.

"Your homework, Potter," was all Snape said before he departed the room once more. Once again he was rather surprised at how neat the room was. He had expected everything to be thrown haphazardously around the room. Instead he found one that was very well kept indeed; perhaps his aunt and uncle had been stricter than he thought. Perhaps he did have chores to do after all. In fact, the books scattered around the room reminded him of Lily's when she was that age. He had been thinking about her all day today; he blamed Potter and his bloody eyes. If it weren't for those green eyes, he wouldn't be so damn reminded of Lily all the time, or so he told himself.

Harry sat reading well into the night, remembering to go to the toilet before nine. He was proud of himself, of his work and the fact he'd avoided getting into trouble. Was his uncle right or wrong? Surely if he was nothing but a burden, Snape would have taken out his frustrations on him by now. His back was probably wondering what was wrong; it hadn't been walloped yet.

Then Harry would get back to the crux of the matter ― there was still time yet, and he shouldn't get his hopes up.

The night was a long one; despite how tired he was, he didn't want to sleep. He didn't want Cedric Diggory to haunt him; he could only take so much blame before he felt cold all over. Cedric kept blaming him in his nightmares; it was enough he blamed himself.

It was just hitting eleven o'clock when an owl came through his room. He caught the letter from the barn owl, and the bird flew right back out, as if it couldn't stand being there. Hedwig herself was out hunting, or just stretching her wings. He could tell from the messy writing that it was from Sirius; opening it, he glanced at it then dropped it and sighed in agitation.

Yes, Sirius, I'm getting over seeing a classmate dying and Voldemort coming back; thanks, I'm fine… thanks for asking, thought Harry sarcastically. Sirius had sent him a letter ranting at him for not telling him about staying with Snape and even more ranting about what an arsehole the man was.

Dear Harry, 

I'm sorry you are stuck with that bastard; I'll keep trying to get you out of there. You can come and stay with me where I am, I'm sure it's better than where you currently are. Why the hell didn't you tell me, Harry? Why did I have to find out from Snivellus himself? I thought you wanted to keep in touch with me.

Don't take any of the bastard's shit, Harry; if he hurts you in any way, tell me, and I'll kick his arse. Tell me where you are so I can come; I'll keep an eye on you. I don't like the fact he has you. He's a slimy Death Eater, I don't care what anyone says otherwise. I don't trust Dumbledore, not after this! I just can't believe it. How could he send you there?! This place is more protected, wherever the hell Snape is.

Get back in touch with me as soon as you can, so I know you are safe from him. Tell me if anything inappropriate has happened as soon as possible.

Padfoot

Harry shook his head in sadness; the letter shook in his hands as he sat down on the bed. Tears were pouring down his face, why didn't anyone care? It was obvious Sirius didn't… not really. Otherwise he would have asked how he was, not just ranted about Severus Snape. Swallowing the lump lodged in his throat, he threw the paper in his trunk, ruthlessly stopping the tears. He hadn't cried in years... the last time, he had been five, if he remembered correctly. Vernon had seen him crying; his cousin had just broken his ankle by stomping on it. It was the first broken bone he had ever had—well, that he could remember, anyway. His Uncle had asked him what he was crying for; Harry had stupidly told him. Instead of helping, he had stomped on his other ankle and slapped him silly, saying boys didn't cry, before shoving him in the cupboard.

There and then, Harry realized there was no point to tears. They didn't help anyone, not him, anyway. Right now, after all those years of not crying, here he was; it was just how dire the situation was. The illusion of family was stripped away from him with that one letter. He imagined a family would care more about him than about the person he lived with. A little rant about whom he stayed with, then asking how he was would have been fine, but an entire letter ranting about it ― it hurt. Swallowing thickly, he took off the glasses, which weren't his, but he wore them―better than the alternative― and put them on the nightstand.

A few more lonely tears fell before Harry was once again enveloped in darkness and nightmares.

That night he slept for only two hours, wakening up screaming for Cedric to run.

As usual, for some strange reason Snape never heard him, thought Harry. Unless he did and didn't care, but surely he would hit him and yell at him to shut up if he was waking him up.

Harry had no idea about his wish magic silencing the room and making it safe for his magic-wielding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for editing this Jake and Jordre :)


	5. Chapter 5

A New Place To Stay 

Chapter 5 

Suspicious Mind Of Severus Snape

 

Severus woke up abruptly, hearing a door down the hall opening. He knew it was the Potter boy; like clockwork he would shower for five minutes, get dressed, and go down the stairs. The kid didn't have an alarm, so how was it that he managed to get up? Severus shuddered, remembering why he'd always gotten up: the threat of beatings hanging over his head. It was now exactly a week since summer had begun, since Potter had come to his manor. Something was wrong with the boy; he knew it and could no longer ignore it.

Something with the boy's subservient attitude was bothering him; it just wasn't natural. The boy he knew glared, groaned, back chatted, and moaned about how badly he was treated. He was surer than ever it couldn't just be Voldemort that was bothering the boy, or that would have happened back in the boy's first year when he’d first encountered the snake-faced monster.

Getting up he showered himself, taking more time than the boy had anyway. Once dressed he made it in time for breakfast and sat down. Once again the boy was standing beside the door like a spare end, which was how he remained until he told him to sit down. He watched the boy throughout breakfast, and wondered silently about him.

"Potter, would you like to see your family for the day?" Severus asked, watching Potter closely. His concern for the boy rose rapidly at the boy's paling complexion. Why on earth had he acted like that? He looked ready to be sick.

"No, thank you, sir," Harry refused his offer, his voice hoarse and weak.

"Is there anyone you would like to see? How about that mutt of a godfather of yours?" Severus asked; he didn't care what Dumbledore said, the boy needed someone. That much was obvious; he wasn't about to coddle the boy, so that left it up to someone else. The reaction to the thought of seeing his family needed reflecting on.

"No, sir," Harry said; how could he tell Snape that no one cared? He couldn't. He would never hear the end of it; Snape would be unbearable about it. It would give him something to use against him in class with his Slytherins. He had no idea that Snape was already suspicious about his reactions to his family. Harry thought he had covered it rather well, but the abruptness of the questions had left him shaken. He couldn't let Snape know about his uncle. He shuddered at the thought of them both ganging up on him; they both hated him more than anyone else—other than Voldemort, maybe. Why did everyone have to hate him? Was he so unlovable? He wished his parents were there more than ever.

"Very well," Severus sighed in agitation. If the boy wanted to be depressed, then so be it. If the boy was here, then it would give him a chance to observe him, he supposed. Something was up, but he wasn't about to get himself worked up about it.

Harry said nothing; his grip on his fork was turning his hand red as he ate, trying to stop himself from showing his relief. He was fine; he was safe—well, from Vernon Dursley at least. He knew how much damage Vernon could cause in just one day. If he then had to come back here and do so many chores, Snape would find out. He wouldn't be able to do them to the best of his ability, not with all the sores he would have. Swallowing thickly, he couldn't eat half as much of his breakfast as usual; his stomach was playing havoc with his insides.

"You can do what you like today," Severus abruptly said; perhaps without something to take his mind off things, he would finally find out what was wrong with the boy.

"What?" Harry asked wide-eyed; nothing to do? What was he supposed to do with that information? Stay in his room out of the way, as Vernon wanted? He supposed so.

"Do I need to repeat myself, Potter?" Severus frowned, glaring at the teenager and giving him a very pointed look.

"No, sir," Harry quickly said; well, it looked as if he would have nothing to do today. Perhaps he would be allowed to read some more books; Snape seemed to like that. He had given him many books in the past week to read, and they were good.

"Good," Severus said, contemplating whether or not to give Potter his broom back. It would just be for the day; he didn't want the boy running rings around his manor with his broom all summer. The noise would be deafening and it would drive him mad. He wasn't used to having teenagers around his home, or interrupting his summers. He made no secret of it, he couldn't be bothered with them, which was the reason he’d never had any. Everything he owned would one day go to his godson; he had no one else to bequeath his things to. He had made a will as soon as Draco had been born; he hadn't wanted to take any chances on his inheritance's going to the Ministry buffoons. The way Lucius Malfoy was going, though, spending and giving money away, there wouldn't be anything left for Draco to inherit when his father died, so it was a good thing, really.

An hour later Severus knew the boy was in his room, the wards told him as much. With a sigh he went into his room and retrieved the broom; obviously Potter wasn't going to do anything without being told. How did he go about getting answers from a boy who barely spoke? He wasn't about to invite anyone to his home to placate the boy. Damn it, perhaps he should speak to Dumbledore; he would know what to do. Perhaps he would take the boy off his hands and find someone else to deal with him. Someone else who liked the brat and could find out what was wrong with him. The thought of someone else managing to help Potter wound him up the wrong way, though.

He swore silently as he made his way to Potter's room and knocked; only once he had gotten the very quiet permission to come in did he enter the boy's temporary room.

"What exactly are you doing, Potter?" Severus inquired demandingly.

"Reading, sir," Harry said, his face drawn, as if it was killing him to be nice to Severus.

"Here, do not go more than fifteen feet above the ground or leave the grounds at all, the wards only go so far. If you do go further than I have advised, I will know and you will regret it," Severus said, handing over the broom.

"Yes, Professor Snape," Harry said, his eyes wider than Dobby's on a bad day.

Severus curled his lips in distaste; he truly hated a respectful Potter. Yet on the other hand he liked it because it reminded him of Lily. Growling, he headed for his room; he hated this, the contradictions, and damn it, he hated the boy for confusing him. Perhaps he could use Veritaserum on him; that way he could get his answers… maybe Obliviate the boy afterwards, and he would never know.

As much as he liked that idea, he wasn't any good at charms― that had been Lily's speciality. Damn it, thinking of her again; Severus breathed deeply, feeling angry with himself. He wouldn't be able to Obliviate the boy properly, and Dumbledore would kill him.

As he brewed potions, he silently noticed that it took Potter almost an hour to leave his room. Now he could feel the wards buzzing as Potter flew around on his broom. Surprisingly, he didn't go anywhere near the edge of the wards at all.

Finishing up yet another batch for Pomfrey, he set them aside; he was just leaving the dungeons when the wards alerted him to someone's Floo-calling his manor. Grumbling, he made his way to his sitting room, the only fire connected to the Floo network. He assumed it was Dumbledore, wanting him to come to Hogwarts after walking out of the Order meeting. Instead he found Lucius Malfoy in his fireplace. Schooling his features, he closed the door just in case Potter walked by. "Lucius," Severus said smoothly, a small frown marring his forehead.

"Could you take Draco tomorrow? Narcissa and I want to go out for our anniversary," Lucius asked, not exhibiting the demanding air he usually sported all the time. He knew better than to demand from Severus if he wanted his way, and Severus had to suppress his smirk at that.

"How long?" Severus asked, feeling dread pooling in his stomach.

"One day," Lucius said quickly. "I'm planning on taking Narcissa to Paris."

"I suppose so," Severus reluctantly agreed. If he didn't accept the boy, Lucius would make his life unpleasant, or try to. He would just have to ensure Draco swore an Unbreakable Vow when he got there never to reveal Potter was there. He was going to have to spin a yarn or two to get Draco to agree. At least he wouldn't be able to tell his father or Voldemort, and that was all he cared about. Perhaps if Draco realized what side he truly was on, he might have a chance of getting his godson to change sides.

"Thank you," Lucius said. "I shall drop him off tomorrow morning; we will be back for night-time. Just have him Floo back over around bedtime. The house-elves can watch him until we Portkey back."

"Very well," Severus said curtly; Lucius, having what he wanted, quickly disappeared from the fire before Severus could change his mind.

Growling low in his throat, he picked up some Floo powder and called Dumbledore. "Albus Dumbledore, Hogwarts Headmaster's office!" he shouted into the flames.

"Ah, Severus, can I help you?" Dumbledore asked from behind a mountain of paperwork.

"Lucius wants my godson to come over for the day; what am I supposed to do with Potter?" asked Severus; in other words, he meant, “get Potter out of my house for the day so I don't have to put up with two teenagers.”

"I'm sure Harry will be pleased to have someone his own age to play with for a few hours," Dumbledore told him jovially.

Severus snorted at Dumbledore's bad taste in jokes. "They hate each other, Albus; please just find somewhere for him to go for the day! Send him to Grimmauld Place to see that mutt of his."

"You know as well as I do Sirius won't let him back out if he does get him in there!" Dumbledore said in exasperation.

"I do not care," Severus grumbled, only half-honestly.

"I'm sorry, Severus, he is there for a reason; we cannot move him," Dumbledore said, his voice implacable. He truly didn't care about Severus' problem, only about keeping Harry Potter safe from Death Eaters.

"Fine!" Severus snarled furiously, withdrawing his head before Dumbledore could open his mouth again. What was he to do? He couldn't in all good conscience allow Potter to remain in his room all day; that just wouldn't be fair. Yet he really didn't want Draco knowing someone else was there. Severus couldn't help but think life truly wasn't fair. He would just have to threaten both boys with dire consequences should they even glare at each other. By "both boys," he meant Potter, as well; no doubt he started all the fights― his godson had more sense than to start them.

Too soon for his liking, it was dinnertime, and the day was drawing to a close. Draco Malfoy would be there tomorrow morning, first thing, no doubt. As usual, like clockwork Potter was sitting down at the dining table; he hadn't known the boy to have such good time-keeping. He had forgotten about his quest for answers about Potter. He was just too agitated even to think about that right now. So both professor and student ate in silence, Severus wondering why his life was so complicated, and Harry wondering when the other shoe was going to drop.

"Mr. Potter, Draco Malfoy will be over for the day tomorrow, as his parents are otherwise occupied," Severus said smoothly.

Outwardly Harry didn't react, but his insides clenched painfully. Well, his humiliation was complete; Draco Malfoy, of all people, was going to see him slaving away like a house-elf. Not that he personally minded the manual labour― it kept his mind off things― it was just the fact that Malfoy was going to see him. No doubt everyone in Hogwarts would know when he got back, and he was going to be bullied unmercifully all year. But Harry couldn't help but think, at least it wasn't a Muggle beating the crap out of him he was going to see, or see him slaving away for his own family. He'd take Snape any day if he had to choose which one Malfoy was to see him with.

"Yes, sir," Harry eventually said, his face neutral.

"I expect for both of you to behave while under my roof, or you'll suffer the consequences of your folly," Severus warned, more harshly than he had intended; he wasn't even looking at the boy, though, so he missed the barely-concealed flinch at the sharp words.

"Yes, sir," Harry said; he knew, deep in his bones, he would end up punished in some form tomorrow. So with great difficulty he began eating his dinner, eating absolutely everything on his plate, just in case he didn't get any food tomorrow. Unfortunately, his stomach was once again used to getting fed three good meals a day. That was probably the worst part of the summer for him, the lack of food after so much incredible food during the school year. The beatings he was used to—his pain tolerance was very high—not completely, though. He shuddered inwardly as he remembered yet again the Cruciatus Voldemort had cast on him. That had been nerve-ending torture, the likes he never wanted to feel again in his life. Voldemort was a sick, sick bastard for using that spell; it should never have been created.

"Good," Severus said, drinking the rest of his coffee and taking himself off to his sitting room. He was trying to make an even better version of the Wolfsbane potion. He hoped one day to make the wolf twist into an animagus form, so the weres didn't have to put up with changing during the full moon. He wanted to do it before Voldemort truly began the next war, so the wolves didn't end up joining the bastard's side. Greyback was a sadistic son of a bitch, and he'd gladly pour the potion down his throat and stop him from being able to transform. He shuddered as he remembered the bastard's infecting Muggle children during the last war. Muggle children never survived the first transformation; there was too much pain and no magic to help. They did indeed never make it through the first month. In the aftermath of the war, Severus had mercifully given two children painless deaths by a potion, which had sent them into a deep, deep sleep, never to wake again. He hadn't slept properly for months after doing and seeing that; their faces constantly haunted what sleep he managed to get.

Harry made his way up the stairs and went to his room; once he was in, he climbed onto the bed with the Advanced Charms book. He hadn't yet found the spell that would make his clothes smaller. He was disappointed that he couldn't find it, but not overly surprised; he hoped he would by the end of the summer, though. The string did make his skin irritated and red, he had to tie it so tightly around his midsection. Then half the cloth remained unused at the sides, bloody fat slob that his cousin was.

Harry was determined to stay well out of Draco Malfoy's way. He didn't want to take the chance of risking the wrath of his Potions teacher. He knew Snape would always take his godson's side, no matter what, even if he saw it happening in front of his eyes. Even if he had to stay in his room to keep away from the blond, so be it. That was how it should be, really, family taking the word of one of their own rather than that of someone they didn't like. Harry was under no illusion that Snape liked him; he knew his teacher hated him and always would. Nothing he could possibly do could change his teacher's opinion of him; he had, after all, tried many times, basically doing his best in potions when he could, despite the flying ingredients making their respective homes in his potions. The only decent thing Snape had ever said to him in the four years Harry had known him was complimenting his summer homework.

It wasn't long before Harry slipped into bed, even less time for him to wake up scared out of his wits and refusing to sleep again. Cedric Diggory had had red eyes in this nightmare, before morphing into his parents and blaming him some more. The three people chanting he was a murderer freaked him out more than he thought possible.

\----------0

"Hey, Uncle Sev," Draco grinned; as usual the blond boy was immaculate, even after just stepping out of the fire. Severus just rolled his eyes at the title but didn't comment further.

"Sit down," Severus said smoothly.

Draco did as bid, confused; sure, Severus wasn't the lovey-dovey type, but he didn't usually tell him to sit that sternly.

"Harry Potter is here for this week… Dumbledore's way of testing me, no doubt," Severus declared, a twitch in his eye indicating how uncomfortable he was at sharing this with his godson. He didn't even show he was lying― a good trait for a spy to have. It was no wonder Severus had been able to spy as long as he had.

"Potter?" Draco sneered, disgusted.

"You will keep out of his way, Draco― I am serious!" said Severus, his onyx eyes penetrating Draco's, demanding that his godson do as he was told. "Or you will be back home with the house-elves and I will have your father told."

"Of course, sir," said Draco, paling slightly at that; he knew Severus kept his promises.

"Good," said Severus relaxing; well, he had told them both that, if they started anything, God help them. He hoped the fourteen-year-old boys would take a telling from him, and not disobey him. However, both boys were very, very coddled and pampered; there was no chance they would be able to lay off one another. They would both be scrubbing the dungeons if they did anything; he was very honest and would make them regret it if they did start fighting.

He only asked Potter to remove certain ingredients from his herbal garden—the ones that were going to be useful in his experimental potion for the improved wolfsbane—then to give everything else a hosing down... at least it would keep him busy. Just then, the worst thing that could happen, happened: his mark burned fiercely.

He was being summoned by Voldemort.

\-------0

Ice-blue eyes observed his godfather leaving, before a malicious gleam entered them. He began making his way around the manor, looking for Potter, and when he found him twenty minutes later, a malicious grin spread out on his face. There was Potter, harvesting herbs from the garden, no doubt ordered to do so by his godfather. Perhaps he should ask to stay longer; he would like to see Potter taken down a peg or two. No doubt that was exactly what his godfather was doing.

"Well, well, Potter, never thought I'd see the day where you sat where you belonged ... in the mud," Draco sneered, giving Potter one of the fiercest glares he could manage. He wasn't happy when Potter continued working without even glancing at him―he wasn't used to being ignored.

"Look at me!" Draco snarled furiously, drawing his wand; he was surprised when Potter still refused to look or even draw his own wand.

Harry knew this could only end badly, so for his own sake and defence he continued to ignore the blond. He didn't have his own wand and had no way of defending himself against the irritated boy. He hoped that Malfoy would back down, seeing he didn't have his own wand out. Surely the blond wouldn't attack an unarmed opponent ... Who was he kidding? The idiot would love that.

"I'll use it, Potter; I've learned a new spell I think you’ll like," Draco sneered, his anger getting the better of him as Potter still refused to look at him. Even at school the smaller boy usually stood up to him, looked at him, even. Right now it was even more insulting that Potter was just sitting there, not rising to his bait or even drawing his own wand.

Draco saw red and yelled the new spell his father had taught him: "Carnificina!"

He paled drastically when he saw the effects of the spell at first hand; his father had shown him the spell, but not what it did. He was too shocked to move, react, or even lower his wand as Potter convulsed, writhing on the ground, screaming in pain. At last Potter was sick and Draco pulled back, finally releasing the spell. Taking one last look at Potter, who had by then fallen unconscious, he fled, hoping Potter got up by himself and didn't tell anyone. His entire body shaking, he went into the living room, feeling sick to his stomach. He'd only meant to cause a little pain, or shock him by using that spell, not do that! His godfather was going to kill him. He wondered silently if the Ministry knew ― he was still an underage wizard. If they did know, that meant they also knew what kind of magic he'd used, although he still didn't understand fully the significance of what he had done. The spell he'd used was an equivalent of the Cruciatus curse, banned and illegal to use; it guaranteed you a life sentence in Azkaban.

\--------0

Severus Apparated into the room; it was disgusting and run-down, very uncared-for. Not that Voldemort would care about that; he saw the disgusting monster sitting on a throne. He looked a little better, but not much; he was surprised the man already had enough magic to call them.

"Severus, where does Dumbledore have Potter?" Voldemort hissed angrily.

"My Lord?" Severus asked, frowning in forced confusion and mingling it with mind magic so Voldemort thought he truly was confused.

"He hasn't gone home to his worthless Muggle relatives," Voldemort hissed in explanation.

"I have no idea, my Lord; I had no idea Dumbledore had moved him… perhaps he's just staying indoors?" Severus suggested, mingled disbelief, shock, and disgust at the situation bleeding past his shields, allowing Voldemort to see what he wished.

"Lucius, any luck getting past the wards?" Voldemort hissed furiously.

"No, my Lord; they are along the entire street. We cannot even get close to Number Four, Privet Drive," Lucius said regretfully, his planned trip to Paris put on hold by this summons.

"Crucio!" Voldemort snarled furiously. "Find the brat!"

"I will, my Lord," Lucius promised, cupping his hand to his bleeding lip and feeling disgusted with himself.

"You had better!" Voldemort snarled. "You, Severus, had better find out if the brat has been moved," he hissed, turning his wrath onto Severus.

"Of course, my Lord," Severus assured him in fake submission.

"Crucio!" snarled Voldemort.

\---------0

Harry, after falling unconscious from the spell Malfoy had cast on him, ended up joining minds with Voldemort. He could see everything happening, as if through hazy eyes. He saw Snape unemotionally lying to Voldemort about where he was. If he'd had any concerns about where Snape's loyalties lay, they would have been greatly diminished right there and then. He winced at the pain the Death Eaters were going through; he knew all too well the pain of that spell. He was feeling it right now, as he finally got free of Voldemort's mind and came to. His body was pulsing with it; he would have thought it was the Cruciatus curse if he hadn't heard the incantation.

He couldn't believe Draco Malfoy would actually cast that curse on him. Sure, they were rivals; sure, the blond had hurt him before, but never to this extent. He couldn't move; every time he tried, pain jagged though him― nerve-ending pain. Unfortunately for him, whether he liked it or not, he was about to be moved.

Severus Apparated back to his manor, shaking from the aftereffects of the curse. He wasn't in the best of moods right now, so when he saw Potter lying on the ground lazing around, the chores he had asked him to do―the only chore he had asked him to do― still unfinished, he chose him to take his anger and frustration out on.

Stomping over to the boy, part of him was elated to see him return to his old self at last, and finally give him a reason to punish him for something. Another part was disappointed in the boy, the part that stemmed from loving Lily. He grabbed the boy by the upper arms with enough force to wake him up. Severus was too furious to see how limp and shaky he was; he all but forced him to walk down to the dungeons, where he used his wand to throw open a door that led to a room that had been unused for ages.

Throwing the boy away from him in disgust, he snarled, "Have this room spotless by the time I get back, or your punishment will be twice as bad!" He stomped up to his room, fury bubbling just under the surface. Grateful to be alone, he took the appropriate potions to counter the effects of the Cruciatus curse and took off his Death Eater garb before getting under the shower. He remained there for forty-five minutes, as he slowly relaxed and let the pain fade from his entire being. His potions were truly great, and no one could deny that. The effects of the Cruciatus and the pain were gone, even if it was only temporary; he knew he would need to take another dose in the near future.

\---------0

Harry was breathing heavily, leaning against the wall; his heart was about to tear out of his ribcage. He didn't think he had ever been so scared before in his life, not even as a small child. He was in agony, and he didn't understand why Snape was so angry with him, and he had a room to clean, and he didn't know when Snape would be back. It took him three tries before he was able to walk on his shaking legs, whether from the fear or the pain, he wasn't sure.

With trembling hands he filled up a bucket and poured in a degreaser. The room was basically empty, just four walls, one ceiling, and one floor. Lifting the bucket from the sink, he carried it back towards the room he had been told to clean. He had gotten water and cleaning reagents, as well as a cloth and a scrubbing brush, from the supply cupboard; unfortunately, he couldn't keep hold of the bucket. It slipped out of his grip, spilling half the water onto the floor. Grabbing it, his entire form shaking, he all but crawled over to the corner and began scrubbing away, terrified that he wouldn't have it done in time. When his uncle was in moods like that, he knew he was going to be in a world of pain; he just knew Snape was going to do the same thing. Was he going to be Crucioed for the simple fact that Snape had had to lie to Voldemort to protect him? He hoped not. However, the thought of it happening had him scrubbing the floor with vigor. His entire form was shaking with fear; tears he couldn't stop trailed down his face. All you could hear in the small dungeon room was Harry's irregular breathing, the scrubbing of the brush, and the sloshing of water. Under the disgusting black mess, there was wooden laminate, which looked to have been varnished at one point. He wasn't sure what time it was, but his stomach was grumbling lightly, and Harry couldn't help but think, as he scrubbed frantically at the floor, that it was probably after lunch. He had gotten so used to regular meals, it nearly reduced him to tears as he thought of not getting any meals again until Hogwarts. Harry wanted nothing more than to stop; his arms were so sore and weak, and he was in so much pain, but he couldn't; he had to get it done before Snape came back. The thought of getting Crucioed was enough to keep him working. Snape might use it on him after having to lie to Voldemort, and nobody would care; they never did.

He had managed to get nearly all of it done when he stiffened, his entire body going rigid with fear ― someone was coming; Snape, no doubt. He wasn't finished; suddenly it was too much for Harry; he began having a panic attack and trouble breathing. He tried to get his breathing under control as he continued to wheeze weakly in fear. He couldn't let Snape see how scared he was as he scrubbed even more at the floor. He was Harry Potter; he was supposed to be a hero: obnoxious, spoiled, and arrogant. Nobody could see him weak, or they would know just what a freak he was. They would know he had no chance of saving them. He wasn't stupid; when they did finally understand that Voldemort was back, they would look to him. Just because somehow his mother and he had managed to defeat Voldemort all those years ago.

As the footsteps got closer, they were walking faster. Harry lost consciousness as black dots danced across his vision, unable to breathe through the fear. Finally Harry knew no more; he was finally free of the turbulent emotions that had followed him for the past week. Finally free once again of the pain from the curse Malfoy had thrown at him, finally free of the pain in his arms where Snape had grabbed him. Most importantly, he was free of the exhaustion and fear that seemed to want to envelop and swallow him whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big Thanks to Jake and Jordre for editing! :)


	6. Chapter 6

A New Place To Stay 

Chapter 6 

The Truth Comes Out - Will the Shit Hit The Fan?

 

Severus went down the stairs after having a shower; he felt so much better now. He sat on a chair and allowed himself to relax. He felt rather guilty about how he had treated Potter; he knew he was being a bastard. He had been in pain and furious; he had taken it out wrongfully on the teenager. However, his pride stopped him from going down and stopping the boy. He would let him continue cleaning; it would keep Potter and his godson out of each other's way. He would stop him in time for lunch; it was less than an hour away.

Suddenly the wards alerted him to the fact that someone was floo-calling. He sighed in exhaustion; he couldn't wait til bed, he just wanted to sleep, but with two teenagers loose in his manor, it wasn't a possibility. He didn't sleep well with people around; it had been hard enough with Potter in his home the first few nights.

"Can I help you, Albus?" Severus asked as he walked into his sitting room and shut the door.

"We are having an Order meeting. Sirius has promised to be on his best behaviour; can you come through?" Dumbledore requested.

"Fine," Severus growled. So much for just relaxing; he wasn't even going to be able to have lunch either now. He was going to sit and listen to the bloody Order natter on about useless things.

So without more ado he floo'ed to Grimmauld Place and took his seat.

"Has he called?" Dumbledore asked almost immediately.

Severus silently wondered if Dumbledore was just hopeful, or if he knew or had a sixth sense. He hated talking about Death Eater meetings, especially in front of these people. It would only take their lives to be in danger once, and they would spill all they knew if they believed their pathetic lives would be spared.

"Yes," Severus eventually admitted with great reluctance. He couldn't wait until school started again; that way he would only have to give his reports to Dumbledore. Then again, his life would be even busier when school began, and he regretted such thinking.

"What happened?" Dumbledore demanded eagerly, sitting forward, his sole attention on Severus.

"He knows or suspects Potter is not in Privet Drive and has demanded I find out where he is," Severus answered harshly.

"Anything else?" Dumbledore asked, looking put out.

"The whole meeting revolved around Potter; get used to it. He won't stop until the boy is dead," Severus snarled, furious that Dumbledore was upset with the lack of information. What did the old fool expect? Plans for raids? Information about Voldemort that he didn't already know? He was risking his life, the least he deserved was a thank you, but he knew that was asking too much.

The ironic thing was, the meetings of the Order always revolved around Potter and Voldemort too.

"So he hasn't made any plans for recruiting more people?" Dumbledore asked, relaxing; at least his people would have a chance to make them see the errors of their way.

"That's good, we have the upper hand there," Shacklebolt said once Severus had nodded curtly that Voldemort hadn't planned on recruiting more people. "Albus has sent Hagrid to speak to the Giants; Remus has gone to speak to the Wolves," Shacklebolt told Severus, as he didn't know yet― he'd missed the previous meeting.

"Those aren't the ones you need to worry about; it's the Dementors and other truly dark creatures," Severus bluntly told them.

"True, but he didn't get their allegiance during the first war, so we might not have anything to worry about on that front," Dumbledore argued hopefully.

"You forget he nearly did manage to get them to change their allegiance," Severus pointed out, scowling darkly; if it hadn't been for the Potter boy and Lily, Voldemort would have had them on his side. When that happened, the world would truly be a dark place to live.

"True enough, but without the Ministry caring, there isn't much we can do," Tonks sighed in agitation.

Severus just nodded curtly, agreeing with her.

"How is Hagrid doing?" Moody asked.

"No luck so far. It's all very strange; despite the fact that he hasn't managed to win their alliance, he seems very excited and exuberant in his letters," Dumbledore remarked, looking a little peeved.

"Remus hadn't had any luck either when I got a letter from him," Sirius said, looking bored and worried. He was so sick and tired of being locked up in the house he had grown up in, with his mother constantly screaming and snarling at him. There were only so many times he could stand to be told he was a disgrace to the Black family.

"It's early days," said Dumbledore soothingly.

Sirius just nodded, but he was feeling very petulant about Dumbledore's words earlier. Dumbledore had warned him not to start, or he wouldn't get to see his own godson. Just who did Dumbledore think he was, threatening him like that? He didn't care how much Dumbledore trusted Snape, he never would. Especially not with his godson's life, and the boy still hadn't gotten back in touch.

For the next three hours, they continued to talk about everything that had happened. It was four o'clock, and Severus still wasn't able to break away.

"Where's my godson, Snape?" Sirius demanded, as soon as Dumbledore was fire-called away. He had his wand in his hand, and he looked utterly furious. The rest of the Order had their wands out also, should the situation start to get out of hand.

"Where do you think he is, Black?" spat Severus, even when he felt a slither of guilt in the pit of his stomach. Potter had been working for five hours nearly, and he hadn't planned on it being that long. No doubt he was already finished, or had stopped; perhaps he was already in his room reading. He didn't allow the guilt to affect him; the boy had probably only cleaned the floor, as there was nothing else for him to clean there.

"Why hasn't he replied to my letter?" Sirius hissed furiously, not even listening to Snape anymore.

Severus was taken aback. Black had written to Potter? And Potter hadn't written back? The surprise was too sudden, and it was written across his face for the Order to see. They realized there and then he hadn't any idea about Potter or Black's correspondence.

"Black, I'm only going to explain this to you once: I do not follow Potter around all day. I see him at meals; the rest of the time he does what he likes, other than the times I give him chores," Severus sneered furiously. That wasn't strictly true, and the fact that he didn't want to tell the Order member otherwise was telling. Right there and then, Snape knew what he had been doing was wrong. He shouldn't have had the boy working so hard or doing so many chores. Guilt where a Potter was concerned was a new thing, and he didn't like it at all.

"Chores? During the summer―are you mad?" Sirius shrieked, trying to pick a fight.

"Excuse me?" Molly Weasley asked, standing up with her hands on her hips and looking furiously at Sirius.

"What?" Sirius snapped, angry that the woman that was supposed to like his godson was sticking up for Snape.

"My children all get chores! A few chores to do a day doesn't harm anyone!" Molly hissed indignantly.

Severus didn't even try to tell Molly that Black did have a point, he had no doubt Molly's idea for chores was folding laundry, de-gnoming the garden, or some other thing like that. A feeling of confusion entered him; he knew Weasley would have run to his parents after just one afternoon with him. There was something very wrong with Potter, and he had to find out soon, his pride and cold mask be damned. He had to find out; the urge had started a week ago and had only gotten stronger. Now, though, it was all-consuming; there was something wrong with the boy, and he would find out what.

"Why isn't he replying?" Sirius whined pathetically.

"How am I supposed to know?" Severus sneered, getting little satisfaction out of taunting Black about Potter. This was just the icing on the cake, if Potter wasn't replying to his beloved godfather.

"If I find out you hurt him, Snape, I swear I'll…" Sirius started to swear angrily.

"You'll do what, Black? Tell me to go after a werewolf? Curse me from behind, or with three people backing you up?" Severus sneered furiously, an ugly look on his face as he remembered everything those four bastards had done to him during his school years.

Sirius flushed darkly, his anger just getting stronger as there wasn't anyone there stopping it.

Severus just sneered at Black and apparated away. By the time he finally got home, it was dinner time. He walked straight to the dining room and found Draco sitting there, but no Potter. He was too hungry and angry to deal with the boy, so he vowed to calm down. Black always did bring out the worst in him; after the way he'd treated the boy earlier with his anger, he didn't want to risk it again.

"Did Potter come down for lunch?" Severus asked bluntly as he ate his dinner more quickly than usual. He would send Potter to his bed and let him eat there; he didn't like allowing it, but it was the least he could do for the boy.

"No," Draco answered, looking very nervous indeed.

Severus frowned; why was Draco acting like a rabbit caught in the headlights? He knew the boys hadn't seen each other all day; had his godson been down to the dungeons, taunting Harry? He rather hoped not. He couldn't help but imagine Potter taunting him during a detention or punishment; the thought did make him shudder in disgust.

"Very well," Severus sighed; so the boy had remained down there all day after all. The wards told him exactly where everyone was, and the boy truly was still down in the dungeons. Why did Potter have to start doing what he was told again? It made him feel bloody guilty, especially with the way he had behaved this morning.

However, his temper was the one thing he couldn't control easily; it was something he got from his disgusting father. It was his biggest shame too, his temper; it was his weakness― he did things he regretted when he got angry. What had happened when Lily had saved him was proof of that; instead of being grateful, he had been furious and had called her a name that would be guaranteed to hurt her as much as he was hurting. Nothing had been the same between them after that, and he had nothing but himself and his temper to blame.

"Where is Potter, anyway?" Draco asked, looking… well, rather scared, and Severus was even more confused. Draco was never scared; he had never seen his fourteen-year-old godson scared― not like this.

"I do not know," Severus smoothly lied; an eyebrow rose in amusement when Draco panicked even more.

"Um… Uncle Sev," Draco whispered weakly, his ice blue eyes wide with fear.

"What is it, Draco?" Severus asked, worried about Draco. What the hell was going on with the teenagers around him?

"My father… showed me a new spell… I had no idea what it was," Draco whispered, still petrified; he couldn't eat, and he had been too worried all day even to think about lunch.

Severus had a flashback to Potter lying on the ground, and he felt a sinking feeling all the way to the pit of his stomach. He pleaded inwardly that he was wrong, that Potter truly had been lazing around; it would be better that way.

"What spell would that be?" Severus asked, hiding his panic and worry.

"I tried it on Potter… I had no idea what it would do," Draco said; his panic was at full blast, and he was shaking in fear. He hadn't meant to hurt Potter, not like that! He couldn't believe his father would show him such a horrific spell. He was scared he was about to be expelled, and he was scared about what he had done to Potter.

"What spell, Draco?" Severus demanded more fiercely, grabbing his godson's upper arms and trying to calm him down to get any sense out of him.

"Carnificina," Draco yelped, terrified; a few tears began running down his face. He became even more hysterical at his godfather's paling features, his godfather looked ready to be sick! It couldn't bode well for him.

"You know what that spell does, Draco… your Latin is very good… why did you use it?" Severus rasped; his world was turned upside down. His godson, a boy whom, despite his distaste for children, he loved.

"He was ignoring me," Draco explained, sounding, and knowing he sounded, like a spoiled little brat.

"You do realize you just performed the equivalent of an Unforgivable, don't you, Draco?" Severus whispered, disbelief colouring his voice. How could Lucius show his son such a spell and not tell him what it did? What if he had done it at Hogwarts? Or worse yet, in front of someone else? He didn't even know if he could protect his godson from the ramifications of his actions.

"I'm sorry," Draco whispered, swallowing thickly.

"Go home, Draco. Go home; I have to deal with Potter," Severus said, already pulling the teenager in the direction of the fire.

"What will happen to me?" Draco asked, a sickly pale colour.

"I do not know; I don't suggest you tell anyone, especially your parents. I shall see you again when school begins, Draco—that is, if I can convince the boy that you didn't mean what you did. Harry Potter is Dumbledore's favourite, and should he take it in mind to tell, you will find yourself in Azkaban," Severus warned, feeling utterly wretched; damn it, why couldn't Dumbledore have let Potter go to Grimmauld Place? This could have been avoided. He couldn't blame Potter for winding up his godson; as Draco had said, Potter had been ignoring him.

As soon as Draco had floo'ed home, Snape began practically running down to the dungeons. The stalk towards the dungeons this afternoon had been fast; now, though, the dungeons seemed to be closing in on him as he tried to get to the child quickly enough. Potter or not, this was a child who had been grievously hurt, and he hadn't seen it. Not only that, but he had taken his anger out on a child. He had sworn never to become his father; right now he felt that he had. That was a bigger blow than anything he could have thought to himself in any situation.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he was at the door to the unused room; he found it closed. Opening it, he belatedly realized it was clean, very clean. His heart stuttered to a stop when he saw Harry lying on the floor unconscious, cold, dirty water soaking into his clothes. Rushing over, he banished the cleaning things and spilled water as he turned the teenager onto his back. His heart was thumping a mile a minute; he was unable to believe he had missed the fact the child had been put under, for all intents and purposes, a torture curse. He could see it now: despite Potter's unconscious state, the boy was shaking, and jerking every few seconds.

Severus picked up the teenager and quickly made his way to the boy's room. He fumbled awkwardly for a moment before deciding he had better change the boy out of his clothes; Harry had been in a freezing cold room for goodness knew how many hours, and he needed his nightclothes on. He walked towards the dresser, but felt confused; there was nothing in the drawers apart from boxers that looked ten times too large. The socks he refused to comment on. Checking in the cupboard, he saw only the boy's school uniforms. Growling low in his throat, he opened the child's trunk and finally found clothes. He took them out before his satisfaction at having found something turned into incredulity and shock.

They looked like rags. They were full of holes and were smelly... it reminded Severus so much of his own childhood that he dropped them in shock. He remembered having to wear second-hand clothes all his life, but at least they had been his size. Surely the Dursleys couldn't be badly off; he knew they got paid money for keeping the brat. Dumbledore had mentioned it once when Harry had been around three years old.

For the first time, Severus was seeing everything with a starling clarity. The boy's reaction to going home, having no decent clothes, the subservient attitude... Severus was still confused though; why had the boy hidden it? He had people who loved him; he would have been removed in seconds. Dumbledore under no circumstances would have allowed the boy to remain there if he'd known. Despite his confusion, Severus knew all too well why the boy wouldn't tell, and he felt his heart sink in fear and anger. He gripped the trunk, feeling ready to explode with all those warring emotions inside him. This was Lily's son. Lily's son... he wasn't supposed to be abused. It had never even occurred to Severus that Harry could be abused. He was loved by everyone; he was the last person you would expect to have to worry about.

Doubts began to creep into Severus. Had he ignored the signs as he'd held onto the hate he felt for a dead man? No. No, he couldn't have, wouldn't have... Despite everything, Severus couldn't condone child abuse. He had helped many children over the course of his Hogwarts career, children from all four houses; their own Heads of House hadn't been able to deal with it. They hadn't even tried to help, leaving it to Severus to deal with, and deal with it he had. Many people would like to say that they all came from Slytherin, simply because they had learned self-preservation―a very Slytherin trait― earlier on in life, but it wasn't true. Many abused children had come from Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor, as well as Slytherin. Abused children didn't trust easily, but when they did, they trusted until it was broken, a Hufflepuff trait. Many abused children read books to get away from the harsh reality of their lives, to survive― a Ravenclaw trait. Some were brave to put up with what they did with their goodness intact, like a Gryffindor. Others turned bitter and cold, and survived through self-preservation, deciding never to have friends or families after what had happened to them as children. Much as he himself had done, and that was a trait for Slytherin. Some even used more than one, or all four traits, come to that.

Severus felt so tired; everything had turned in on itself. He quickly left the room and gathered all the potions he would need. On his way back he grabbed one of his black silk nightshirts and a pair of boxer shorts. He felt sick to his stomach when he thought about giving the boy some of his clothes so grudgingly just last week. He was glad he had taken a magical healer's training course while studying for his Potions Mastery. This way he was able to help him, since he couldn't bring anyone else here. There was no way he was calling Poppy; she would be duty-bound to tell someone.

He removed Harry's top first; that was when he froze completely, for littering the boy's back were belt and whip scars. He knew those marks all too well, having dealt with abused children, and he'd seen them on his own back until he had created a potion to remove them. That potion was not something he had publicized; it would give people who abused their children easier times if they were able to remove the evidence. As good as magic was, such damage couldn't be healed completely, just covered up, glamour-charmed, and healed until they were faded lines; with his potion the scars faded completely.

Severus touched them very lightly, as if he couldn't believe they were truly there. He pulled his hand back as if he had been burnt when he felt just how real they were. Swallowing thickly, he swore revenge on the Dursleys, and if he learned that Dumbledore knew this was happening to the child, the old man would face the wrath of a furious Severus Snape. One of the potions he had given Harry was Dreamless Sleep; it would keep him asleep till tomorrow. He removed the trousers and glared at the offending pair of underwear in disgust. Sighing in resignation, he banished the underwear; he wasn't going to allow the child to wear them―he was using string to keep them up! Once that was done, he dressed the teenager in his own nightwear and underwear before shrinking them to fit him.

Harry was warming up, but he still felt cold and clammy. Lifting him up, Severus spelled the covers back and placed him in the middle of the bed. He grumbled about having to tuck him in, but did it nonetheless. Once he had done all he could, he just stood there, face emotionless, arms across his chest, deep in thought.

Everything he had learned today kept circling around his mind, leaving him restless. He got up eventually and went straight to the kitchen, where he drank three shots of whisky; he bloody well needed it. He knew better than to drink too much, though; his father always had, and look what had happened. Severus had usually ended up getting the shit kicked out of him. He preferred it to have been him; his mother had not been strong enough to stand up to his father and had been very weak for weeks after a beating from him.

He knew he would have to tell Dumbledore what he had discovered; he wasn't looking forward to it. He also knew he was going to have to talk to Harry too. He scowled at himself when he realized what he had just done: thought about the boy as Harry for the first time in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited by Jake and Jordre - Thank you!


	7. Chapter 7

A New Place To Stay 

Chapter 7 

Harry's Secrets - Snape's Version Of A Heart-To-Heart

 

Harry woke up groggily, wondering where the hell he was; he could tell something had happened before it even came back to him. He could taste the lingering horrible flavour of potion ingredients. He flushed bright red and moaned in humiliation; Snape had seen him at his weakest, seen him sprawled out unconscious in the dungeons. He got up, ready to creep to the toilet; only then did he realize what he was wearing. He fell back onto the bed breathing heavily. Snape can't know, can he? He hoped and prayed there was a way for Snape to magically change his clothes, or he had some lying to do. Then he began thinking perhaps Snape wouldn't care. He'd never cared before, so maybe, just maybe, he might let it go. If Snape started in about it at school, he could just laugh and deny it; after all, who would believe he was abused—apart from Dumbledore, of course. Dumbledore knew; Harry couldn't have said it any clearer to him after his first year. All that Dumbledore had done was insist that he had to go home for the blood wards that protected him. He'd then pointed out Quirrell as an example, not caring how Harry felt about that. Harry felt so much guilt over it; he wasn't sure if Quirrell was loyal to Voldemort or if he had been fighting him all the time. He had killed him; it might have been kill or be killed, but still, at the age of eleven he had killed a man.

Swallowing heavily, he noticed even his underwear had been changed, and he flushed in embarrassment. He was fourteen years old, and he didn't care if someone saw him, just that someone had seen his scars. Then again, he wasn't any normal fourteen-year-old, was he? He wasn't normal by half. Not magically, not in happiness, not friend-wise, and not family-wise. He remembered the panic attack he'd had; that was the first time since he had entered the wizarding world that that had happened. Usually as a child he had hyperventilated upon hearing his obese uncle stomping down the stairs in the morning.

He put on his clothes, or rather his borrowed ones―they were so soft and comfortable. Even the boxer shorts; he wondered how he could explain that one if Snape asked. His mind worked in overdrive, thinking up excuses on what to say if he had seen the scars, excuses that Snape would buy; the man could always see right through him at school. He noticed it was nearing seven o'clock, so it was time for breakfast. He didn't even know if he would be allowed any; he hadn't finished the chores Snape had set out. He shuddered anew at the feeling of the spell; it had felt almost the same as the Cruciatus Voldemort had cast, just less powerful. He hadn't known the caster's power to affect spells, but now he knew better. He had no doubt Snape knew about it; he'd probably taught it to Draco, just like that time in his second year, telling Draco to send a snake at him. He remembered the look even Snape had given him then, at the age of twelve. He had looked utterly stunned, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Then again, he supposed he would have had the same reaction; Snape had to put up with Voldemort all the time. Just because he knew of Snape's loyalties, it didn't make him safe. Dumbledore knew he hated the Dursleys and was abused, yet he sent him back there over and over again. Then he sent him somewhere else he was hated; he wondered if Dumbledore wanted Snape to hurt him like the Dursleys did.

He took a deep breath, excuses making their way around his head, as he headed down the stairs to the dining hall. He saw Snape as usual was already there and waiting.

"You are awake; good. You have slept for nearly two days," Severus said more softly than usual.

Harry's eyes widened in shock; not just at hearing that he had been asleep for two days, but also because of the way his teacher was acting. His heart sank, and fear settled in; Snape must know or he wouldn't be talking like that to him. Why was he speaking softly? Shouldn't he be sneering and laughing at him? After all, he'd allowed a big fat Muggle to beat him. It would explain why he felt so well-rested. He felt better than ever; he knew Snape must have fed him the Dreamless Sleep potion.

"Don't just stand there; sit," Severus said in that same soft tone, which Harry was beginning to fear.

Gulping silently, he walked around and sat down, trying to calm his racing heart. Once again he helped himself only after Snape, and began eating. He found himself starving, and ate everything on his plate despite his fear. Snape couldn't know, or he would be laughing, he had to. He must just be in a good mood, or maybe Dumbledore was lurking around. That must be it, thought Harry, grasping at straws as he drowned in his misery.

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" Severus asked. Harry coughed and spluttered his milk all over the place, and flinched back when Severus was about to thump him on the back. Severus' eyes gleamed as if he had planned it to confirm his suspicions. Harry felt like weeping; the worst person in the world to know how he was treated, knew. He wasn't sure what was going to happen next, but he sure as hellfire wasn't about to spill his guts to let Snape have more ammunition to use against him in class.

"Tell anyone what?" Harry asked, finding it extremely difficult to put his masks on. Despite who knew, he wanted to spill his guts if there was even a smidgeon of hope that he might never have to go back to the Dursleys. He was kind of afraid Vernon would kill him at some point; his anger just got worse as the years continued to pass. Everything that went wrong in Vernon Dursley's life was Harry's fault. He gave himself a jolt. Snape? He wanted to confess all to Snape, so he could go laugh behind his back? He must be going out of his mind.

"That you were abused, Potter," Severus elaborated. Just because he was calling him Harry in his mind, he wasn't about to make the child even more afraid by calling him by his first name. He wanted answers, not to have him running for the hills. If he disturbed Harry too much, he probably would run from the house, something he couldn't risk happening, not when he knew there were at least twelve Death Eaters looking for him. He was more than ever glad he had forced Draco to swear that oath. He was also curious why the boy hadn't even mentioned the spell Draco had cast on him. Surely the boy must realize how illegal it was; the pain was similar to the pain of the Cruciatus curse.

Harry laughed, or tried to, but nothing seemed to work; it just got caught in his throat. Damn it, he had been acting for years; why were all his defences breaking down now? Damn it, thought Harry; instead, he just turned his face neutral― it was the best he could do at the moment.

"I'm not," said Harry simply.

"Really? What about your clothes?" Severus asked, no smirk anywhere to be seen. Harry was confused by that; why wasn't he sneering or smirking? Damn it, why did Snape have to change now, when he needed him to remain the bloody same?

"My aunt and uncle aren't very well off; I usually get my cousin's clothes. I was too embarrassed for people to know, so I lied," Harry shrugged. Haha! There, try and make that look untrue, thought Harry, almost sniggering inwardly.

"Not well off?" Severus asked, his eyes narrowed in disbelief. The boy was good, Severus had to give him that. It was too bad he didn't know about a tidbit of information that Severus did indeed know.

"Yeah, Uncle Vernon lost his job years back; I'm just glad my parents paid for my Hogwarts tuition in advance," Harry said, shrugging his shoulders as if he wasn't bothered.

"Why didn't you give them money then?" Severus asked, looking at Harry and wondering how the child would respond to that one. He had to give it to the boy, so far his answers were very believable. If he wasn't a skilled Legilimens, he would have no idea the boy was lying. His body language showed he wasn't at all bothered by this conversation. A grudging respect for that was budding inside of him, along with all the other bits and pieces he respected Harry Potter for.

"They refused to take it; I did offer," Harry replied, his eyes sad. Give them money? Him? That was a joke and a half; the thought of giving his uncle his money was enough to make him want to gouge his eyes out with a rusty spoon. The bloody bastard wouldn't get a Knut of it, or he wouldn't have enough for his school things over the up-coming years.

"I see; so you obviously don't know they have been getting money to keep you… enough for four people to live quite comfortably on?" Severus asked, feeling a little triumph at the look of shock that came to Harry's features, along with hate and anger. They soon disappeared, but Severus had seen them; it was all that mattered.

"I didn't know…" Harry whispered, struggling to keep his masks up. He felt like he was going to be sick― Vernon had been getting paid to keep him? Yet he forced him to work for his “keep,” beat him, and kept him in a cupboard all those years? All those years of abuse, and the bastard had been getting paid, all the money from Harry's vault being spent on his cousin Dudley Dursley. He swallowed bitterly, tamping down the sick feeling crawling up his throat. His memories of all the presents Dudley had gotten over all those years replayed again and again, and he knew without a doubt Snape was right. Dudley had gotten so much every year, things that cost hundreds of pounds. No wonder Vernon had never gotten rid of him; the money was probably a godsend for looking after a “freak” like him. As much as Vernon made, it wasn't enough to live the lifestyle he was accustomed to. A new car every year, buying the house, wanting to convert the loft. The bloody conservatory, the televisions... everything. Oh God, thought Harry, feeling even worse; it was getting harder to keep the food down in his stomach.

"Here, Potter; drink this," Severus suddenly said, handing over a vial of stomach soother; he could see the child was ready to be sick. He got no satisfaction out of doing this, but he wanted answers—truthful answers, not the admittedly very good lies that Potter was coming up with.

"What is it?" Harry asked, glaring a little at Snape.

Severus felt like whooping; he had his Potter back, the one he hated. He almost wanted to smirk, but held back; smirking wouldn't get him his answers. It would just scare the boy off and probably make him think he was enjoying the reactions he could pull from him.

"Stomach soother," Severus harshly replied, glaring at the teenager. He was very taken aback when Potter grinned, as if he was happy to have his snarling teacher back. He wanted to curse himself for falling into Potter's plan like a fool. Damn it, he wasn't dealing with a brash bloody Gryffindor, this boy was—dare he say, even though it left a bitter taste in his mouth—more like a Slytherin.

"Thanks, professor," Harry said before downing the potion. His cocky attitude was back― it was easier this way: get Snape mad and end the conversation or get beaten. That way Snape couldn't say anything about the Dursleys unless he wanted to be implicated himself. He wasn't sure if he would actually ever have the guts to blackmail his professor; his cold, dark, glaring eyes were enough to have Harry trembling.

Severus inwardly smirked. If that was the way the boy wanted to play this, well, he wasn't about to indulge him. He was the adult here, and he was going to act like one, whether Potter liked it or not. Definitely a Slytherin; he silently wondered why Potter was trying to work him up like he did in class. Did the boy truly expect to be hit? His eyes widened in shock when he thought about what the boy was doing. It truly was bloody Slytherin; get him, Severus Snape, to beat Harry, and then force him to keep quiet. Oh ho, Potter was good, but not as good as he; he was, after all, the ultimate Slytherin.

"So what happened to your back then, Potter?" Severus asked smoothly. Ha, take that, Potter, he thought, almost grinning at the disgruntled look the teenager sported for a few seconds before once again it was gone behind the neutral mask—which he had, by the way, perfected.

"Almost killed my aunt with accidental magic before third year. My uncle didn't realize I didn't have control over it and thought I wanted to kill his sister. It was only after my Aunt Petunia explained I don't always have control of it, that he was sorry for what had happened," Harry said sadly. Damn it, why did Snape have to be so damn difficult? Couldn't he just do what Harry wanted him to do for once? He had no doubt Snape would love to wallop him around some.

"How did that happen, Potter? After all, you left your aunt's the second she was blown up," Severus pointed out, withholding a smirk― two could very well play at this game. He was making a point with all those questions; he was telling Harry he knew. It was up to him to make the next move and tell him. Not that he could blame the boy for not telling him; grudgingly he admitted the boy would never choose him to come to, even if given the opportunity. It was rather odd; most abused children did come to him when he found out in the end. He had a feeling Potter would rather just keep to the illusions than ever tell him. He hoped that wasn't the case; perhaps bringing Dumbledore into it might help. He wasn't doing this to be horrible to the boy, but damn it, he couldn't go back to the Dursleys if that was how they were treating him. He could remember all the abuse he himself had suffered and how close his father had come to killing him a few times. He didn't want that happening to Lily's son; his life would be over and so would everyone else's, but that wasn't why he was doing it. He tried, of course, to convince himself otherwise, but he knew deep down that he was helping an abused child just as he always had. For the first time in his life, he realized that Harry Potter was not James and never had been. He had never known his parents; perhaps bringing Lily up might convince him to open up.

Damn it, thought Harry, how did he answer that bloody question? He hadn't seen them for nearly a year now. The attack on Marge had happened about a week into the holiday; the rest of it—he had spent the best summer of his life in the wizarding world, joined by his best friends later on. "That's why I ran away; I just didn't tell anyone," he answered, a flush creeping up his features. Please, for the love of all things, buy my lies, Snape! He didn't know how much longer he could keep up the pretence, being asked so many questions.

Severus was deeply impressed; Potter was good at his lies, very good indeed. Severus hadn't admired anyone in a long time, apart from other Potions Masters. Right now he was almost admiring Harry; that flush on his cheeks was expertly done.

"Hm, and the older, half-healed scars?" Severus pressed for information, giving up the pretence.

"They happened at the same time; some were just deeper than others," Harry shrugged. Please give up, he thought; he was so bloody damn tired, all those questions were making his head hurt.

"Do you know I knew your mother and her sister before we went to Hogwarts?" Severus asked, abruptly changing the subject.

Harry dropped the cutlery he was holding, real shock entering his face; he shook his head mutely. He hadn't had any idea, but the fact Snape hadn't mentioned his mother during his rants now made sense when he thought about it. Snape had always said he was like his father, calling him all manner of names, telling him he strutted around the school. He hadn't mentioned his mother, and Harry felt stupid for never connecting the dots. Harry had wanted to ask so many questions, so very many, but Remus hadn't told him anything other than that she was an uncommonly gifted witch. Sirius never mentioned her either, just said he wasn't much like his father after all. He had Snape telling him he was, and Sirius telling him he wasn't. He had never been quite sure who to believe, but nothing could be done about that right now.

Oh, Harry was very desperate to ask what she had been like as a child. He was nearly crying at the thought of Snape, the man he hated, holding all those memories of his mother, while he didn't even have one, save of her death, and that wasn't exactly one he wanted to hold onto. He couldn't stop the lone tear from running down his face.

Severus felt guilty at mentioning her; obviously Potter was very emotional right now. He tried to think of how he would feel, knowing a Potter held memories of his mother and he had none. He swallowed the bile in the back of his throat; well, he had his answer: sick to his stomach.

"I know I have her eyes, and she was an uncommonly gifted witch," Harry snapped bitterly; he couldn't stop himself. He was embarrassed at the thought of having lost control around Snape. He was even more furious and embarrassed that his Potions Master knew the truth about his home life. It was obvious the man didn't believe his lies, or he wouldn't have continued his questioning. He wondered what Snape would do, though it wouldn't really matter; at the end of the day he would end up back there. Dumbledore held his life in his hands and continued to abuse the privilege each and every year. He wished more than ever that there was someone out there who would love him and could go against Dumbledore. He nearly snorted at that thought; as if anyone would go against Dumbledore― probably only Death Eaters would do that. Oh, how amazing it would be to have someone in his life that hated Dumbledore, and would do what he wanted regardless of the old fool!

"She was so much more than that, Potter. She had hair like a flame, and it was always long, even when she was a child. She never wanted to cut it, and her parents liked to indulge her. Even at the age of eight, they knew their daughter was special; I just confirmed it by telling her she was a witch," Severus reminisced smoothly.

"You… you… you're a muggle-born?" Harry gaped, unable to stop the question even if he had wanted to try.

"No, my mother was a witch; my father was a muggle," Severus corrected the teenager, hiding his distaste at the mention of his father.

Harry just blinked, shocked at the information he had received; he had always assumed Snape was a pureblood. After all, Voldemort hated all people who didn't have magical backgrounds. That's what the book had said: he went after everyone that wasn't pure, or anyone that stood against him. How on earth did Snape end up a Death Eater if he was a half-blood? He didn't have the nerve to ask him. Instead, he just tried to imagine his mother as an eight-year-old performing magic. All that came to him, though, was his uncle's beating the living daylights out of him for apparating onto the school roof. The firemen had come, confused at how a little boy had been able to get up there in the first place. Vernon had been furious; as soon as everyone had gone away, he'd stopped playing the concerned uncle and had begun pounding into him furiously, calling him a freak. No matter how many times he tried, he couldn't imagine his mum at the age of eight, with Snape of all people telling her she was a witch.

Severus could feel the despair radiating from the teenager and wondered what had caused it. Taking a deep breath, he continued his story, "She liked to float off the swings, after jumping as high as she could. Then she would show Petunia some more magic after Petunia complained that their parents had told Lily not to do it anymore. She made a dead flower come to life, in Petunia's hand. Unfortunately, Petunia was quite upset that she couldn't do what her sister had done."

Harry swallowed the bitterness in his throat, even though his stomach didn't feel upset. The potion, of course, was doing its job, and making him unable to puke up his meal. Petunia had wanted to be magical? He remembered Petunia ranting on about Lily being a favoured child because she was what Petunia always termed a “freak,” her name for magical people. He couldn't believe the sour woman had wanted to be a witch; if only he had the guts to actually share that information with his uncle.

"She used to tag along with me and Lily over the years, despite being older than us. I told her everything I could about magic; Petunia used to hide and listen to us. She was shocked to hear about the Dementors, that was for sure," Severus smirked, unable to stop himself.

Harry was shocked himself; even at the age of eight, Snape had known about the Dementors? He wondered silently what it was like having a magical parent and a muggle one. It must be very strange for the normal person to be surrounded by magic all the time. Snape's mum must have loved his father to remain in the muggle world, away from her true world. Harry wondered silently if he would have to do that to ensure he married someone who truly loved him just for himself, not as the Boy-Who-Lived; he shuddered silently at the thought of any wife he had bragging about being married to Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, and giving interviews. Harry knew he could never live like that, so yes, he would leave his real world to go to the muggle one if it made someone he loved happy.

"Petunia even tried to write to Dumbledore to find out if she could attend Hogwarts with her sister," Severus explained.

Harry blinked; his jaw was hanging open, and he looked like a stranded fish... and there was nothing he could do about it. He was just too shocked even to think about erecting his masks.

"Unfortunately, just as Lily was set to go to Hogwarts, Petunia decided she didn't want to be like Lily anymore. Lily was deeply upset when Petunia kept calling her a freak," Severus said; he watched Harry flinch and knew the boy had probably been called that his entire life. Mental abuse was sometimes harder to cope with than physical abuse, and he had to stop himself from growling angrily.

"She really called her that?" Harry asked quietly, his sad eyes staring at the table; the food and plates had long since disappeared.

"Indeed she did; but she was at Lily's wedding, so I assumed at some point they had made up," Severus said smoothly.

It dawned on Harry what Severus had been saying about Lily's parents, his grandparents. He hadn't met them; they had obviously died, and he wondered what they were like. His need to know overrode the years of "never ask questions" the Dursleys had instilled in him.

"What were my grandparents like?" Harry asked, cringing a little as he asked it, wondering how Snape would react. He didn't realize he had asked Snape a question just seconds ago.

"Rose and Henry Evans were probably the nicest Muggles I've ever met," Severus replied honestly.

"They were happy Mum was a witch?" Harry asked quietly― what would it have been like to be raised by his grandparents? He then thought about what had happened to them; he was afraid to ask, just in case it was as bad as what had happened to his parents.

"They were ecstatic to have a witch in the family, they were unhesitatingly proud of her," Severus nodded softly; if Harry had looked, he would have seen a very fond look on Severus' face. He didn't, however, and so never saw just how much Severus truly did like his grandparents.

"What did they look like?" Harry asked hesitantly; he couldn't believe he was sitting here having a conversation about his family, the family he didn't know, with Severus Snape of all people. The earth truly had shifted on its axis; why wasn't he just being forced to do his chores like any normal day? He wanted normal Snape back—then he thought about the information he had just received. It was more information than he had ever hoped to have; he was undeniably jealous of Severus Snape, and he hated that.

"Your grandfather was a very tall man with very short brown hair; he was an avid chess player. He loved to work in his garden; he loved his daughters more than anything else in the world, apart from his wife. He always wore black slacks and shirts; he never, ever dressed down, even on weekends. He took Lily and Petunia places when he wasn't working during the weekend: amusement parks, cinemas, bowling, to the circus, and anywhere else he could think of. He even drove all of us to see Stonehenge one weekend; there was no denying he loved them. He also loved cooking for the family, although he left the baking to Rose," Severus willingly told him.

Harry was hanging onto every word Snape spoke; he had never listened this avidly before in his life. He was soaking up everything Severus said like a sponge. He didn't care anymore that Snape was the one to know them; he was just desperate for more information on them, even if he felt so jealous of his mum and Petunia now, instead of Snape. He would have done anything to have that; why hadn't his mother just moved aside? He might have still defeated Voldemort. He might have had his mother still with him in this life, and he would have stayed with her.

"Rose Evans loved buying flowers; she loved them so much, she named her children after her favourite plants. Lily Heather Evans and Petunia Orchid Evans... naturally your aunt hated her name and made no secret of it. Of course, if I had spent my entire childhood being called Tuney, I suppose I would too," Severus smirked. "Rose had red hair like Lily, but it was a pixie cut she sported; she never had long hair in all the years I knew her. She was very proud of her appearance, but not in a snobbish way. She just liked to look good, something she passed on to her children. She liked to wear blouses and fancy t-shirts, mostly with jeans or, of course, the occasional skirt. She, like her husband, loved taking the children places; after school she would take them to their swimming practise, ballet practices, music classes, and of course dance classes. She would stay at every single one of them and always praised them for their hard work," Severus went on.

"She couldn't drive, and loved baking. The house always smelled of cooking; she loved to bake cookies the best and always had a tub of fresh ones for whenever they walked through the door. She loved baking for the girls' school fairs, and the teachers loved her for it," Severus said. "The world was a sad place when she died; many people will miss her and continue to do so."

"How did they die?" Harry asked, holding back the tears.

Severus stared at the teenager. "Your grandfather had a stroke; he was young, and he survived. Your grandmother exhausted herself looking after him. Petunia had moved away from home; Lily wanted to come and help look after her dad, but Rose was adamant that she finish her education. Petunia had left school as soon as she could, and Rose wanted at least one of her children to get a diploma or pass school with better grades than Petunia had," Severus explained regretfully. "She refused help, adamant to do it herself; unfortunately, Henry had another stroke, and it was fatal this time. Your grandmother survived three months after him and died in her garden, surrounded by her beloved flowers. There wasn't a reason for her death, just severe exhaustion. Lily was always adamant that her mother had died of a broken heart. They are both buried in the Muggle world, not too far from Privet Drive. Surely Petunia has visited them or even taken her son to see them?" Privet Drive was only a few hours' drive from where they'd all grown up.

Harry mutely shook his head, not even pretending to play the game anymore. He suddenly didn't care if Snape knew; he would just have to live with whatever Snape chose to do with the information.

"Well, she will certainly to go hell," Severus quietly snarled. How dare Petunia ignore her parents! Surely it wouldn't have hurt to take her son or nephew at least once and put flowers at the grave. If Harry had asked what they looked like, obviously he didn't own a picture of his grandparents. Fury began bubbling under the surface; Rose Evans would be gravely disappointed in her bloody daughter.

"Stay there," Severus quietly ordered after a few seconds. He went up the stairs to his room and opened up a shoe box that contained everything he cherished in the world, including a half-black daisy chain made by Lily when they were children; he had put a preservation charm on it. He took out one of the best pictures he had of Lily's parents and duplicated it, then proceeded to duplicate a few more. Avoiding giving Harry ones with him in them was impossible, after all, he was in most of them. He had been part of the little family. Petunia had hated it, but Henry and Rose had been the sweetest people in the world. It was easy to see where Lily had gotten her sweet nature from, but Petunia was another thing altogether.

He sighed softly at having to give the child a picture with him in it, but he had no choice. He fingered the few books Rose had given him as a child― Lord of the Rings, first editions; she had gotten them when she noticed him reading from her husband's. There were also other books by other well-known Muggles; he reluctantly picked up the one he had gotten for Christmas when he’d been nine years old. It was a book of poetry; she had written in it, saying, “Severus, you are the most proper-speaking child I've ever met; I'm sure if you read these, you will be perfect; you've the voice of a poet. All our love, from Rose and Henry xxx.” 

Severus smirked in amusement. She'd been correct, of course; even at nine years old, he had been very well-spoken. He wasn't aware of a time when he hadn't been well-spoken. Perhaps it was because he hadn't had many friends during his childhood. He had been around adults all his life, until Lily had come into it, so that was probably that.

Walking back into the dining room― the boy hadn't moved ―he sat back down in his seat. Harry still refused to look at him; he had yet to remove his eyes from the table. Just how badly damaged was he? How could he or anyone else have continued to miss the signs?

"This was a gift from your grandmother and grandfather when I was nine years old. It's very precious to me, and I do not want to see anything happen to it," Severus sternly told him. "I am giving it to you, to keep. It's yours to do with as you please, but all I ask is that you take care of it. It's older than you, and I will be very unhappy should it be ruined." He handed over the pictures and the book.

"You won't be doing any chores; you must understand, Potter: I thought you were spoiled. Your change in attitude... I chalked it up to your recent encounter with Voldemort. However, it kept niggling away at me until I couldn't ignore it anymore. I was shocked at what I found out, make no mistake about that. I expected you to be spoiled, and you've done nothing to nullify my suspicion over the past four years!" Severus added quite harshly— mostly at himself for not seeing it. That was the closest thing Harry would get to an apology from him. He didn't know how to apologize, and Harry probably realized that.

Harry's head bowed even further as Snape continued his tirade. He was confused; Snape seemed angry that he had hidden it, which was rather unexpected.

"I know better now; I have helped many abused children over the years. From all houses, and all backgrounds: purebloods, half-bloods, and muggle-borns. No one else was quite sure how to deal with them; I, on the other hand, was familiar with what they went through. I know I am probably the last person you want knowing about this, but know that I am here for you if you want to talk about it. You will talk about it before school starts back up, believe me, even if I have to force you. Be warned though, I won't coddle you, pity you, or lie to you… I will listen, however, but that is it. I'm not about to turn into Molly Weasley to help you. You have gone this far, and I know now you are made of sterner stuff than anyone realises. However, everyone has his breaking point, and I'm afraid you have met yours, Potter," Severus concluded honestly.

Once he said his piece, he walked out of the dining room to give Harry a chance to digest what he had said. No doubt he would end up crying over the pictures, if it was the first time he was getting to see them. Even if Severus wanted to comfort Harry Potter, which he didn't, he didn't know how. He wasn't used to comforting anyone, no matter what; he helped children, he didn't coddle them. He had given them all the same speech he had just given Harry. Eventually they had come, just wanting someone to tell their story to and for help. Most did want some form of comfort, but he had stuck true to his guns and refused to coddle them.

However, none of them had been Lily Evan's son, nor living under his roof, and he was about to realize that as the weeks went slowly ticking by.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks Jake and Jordre for editing!


	8. Chapter 8

A New Place To Stay 

Chapter 8 

Slowly Getting Answers 

 

It was well after dinner before Harry saw his Potions Master again; after he had stalked out of the room, Harry had gone up to his room. He had, as Severus Snape predicted, cried over the still-motionless pictures of his grandparents. He had reverently touched the writing on the book in awe. It was his grandmother's writing; he had also discovered his Potions Master's first name too. He had spent the entire afternoon clutching it and gazing at his grandparents in awe through the fountains of tears. He had been the same way the first time he’d seen proper pictures of his parents from Hagrid. Hagrid had given him the two most priceless gifts that could ever have been given to him: the album and Hedwig, and he would forever be grateful to the half-giant... even if he had almost gotten them eaten by a giant spider. Hagrid was probably his favourite person in the world. Next would probably be Dobby― he loved the little elf for risking so much for him: risking Malfoy's wrath—the man had meant to kill him for helping Harry. He was very glad he had known to trick Malfoy into giving Dobby clothes.

"Here, Potter, drink this," Severus said just before dinner was served. Before Harry could even ask what it was, he was telling him, "It should help with the after-effects of the spell."

Harry wasn't surprised he knew― after all, he had probably told Malfoy to do it. He shuddered anew at the thought of both of them sitting laughing about him. Did they get a laugh out of the fact his uncle beat him, too? Probably; it made Harry cold all over. Nonetheless, he picked up the vial and drank it, grudgingly thanking his Potions Master.

"Why didn't you tell me what he had done, Potter? Surely even you realized what he cast at you?" Severus asked curiously.

Harry looked greatly taken aback and Severus became, quite rightfully so, furious.

"You thought I told him to do it?" Severus angrily snarled.

Harry cringed back into his seat waiting for the inevitable, although he was genuinely surprised his Potions Master was innocent of his accusations… it was probably a first in a long list of crimes the Potions Master had against him. Harry seemed to have forgotten about the Quirrell-and-stone incident.

"Tell me, Potter," Severus hissed —how could the boy actually believe him capable of telling his fourteen-year-old godson to cast that curse? —even if the blasted brat didn't know that Draco was his godson.

"Why wouldn't I think so?" Harry whispered painfully, "You told him to send the snake after me in second year."

Severus blinked in shock― didn't the brat see a difference between a harmless Serpentsortia spell and a bloody Unforgivable? Obviously not; just what did this boy actually think him capable of?

"Let me get this straight: You think I'm capable of asking a fourteen-year-old boy to cast an Unforgivable on you? In my care? Under my roof? Risk him going to Azkaban for some pathetic revenge against you?" Severus demanded, fury bubbling under the surface. "You do not see a difference between a harmless Serpentsortia spell and an Unforgivable?" He was hissing by the end, his black eyes flashing dangerously.

Harry was only barely able to keep himself from turning into a puddle of goo or begging Snape to stop his diatribe. He could literally feel the fury radiating from the man; he had never, ever in all his life seen Snape so furious before. He only wished now he hadn't bloody opened his mouth.

"Merlin, Potter, I've not saved your life over the years to see harm come to you, boy!" Severus shouted, finishing his tirade, suddenly feeling too shocked to be angry. He couldn't believe what this boy thought him capable of. Death Eater or not, when had he ever given the boy the impression he would see him in such pain? He had put himself in front of a snarling, vicious beast to save him, for Merlin's sake!

Harry flinched back at that last word. There were two words he hated above all others, no matter how they were said. Nicely or not, he hated the words "boy" and "freak," and it took all his will power not to flinch when they were spoken. Maybe Snape hadn't suggested Malfoy do it, but it made no difference to him. It still had been cast; it did surprise him to learn that Malfoy could end up doing prison time for that spell, though.

"Potter, I did not tell Draco to use that spell―I do not want my godson following my or his father's footsteps. Unfortunately, Lucius has taken it upon himself to teach him dubious spells at the age of fourteen," Severus seethed, more furious with Lucius Malfoy now than he was at anyone.

Harry's eyes widened at that piece of new information: Draco Malfoy was Severus Snape's godson? How weird was that... of course it should have made sense. Snape had always favoured Draco; now he knew why, or thought he did anyway.

"I know my godson didn't know what he was doing… I need to ask what you plan on doing," Severus said, swallowing thickly; the food had been brought through and had as of yet remained untouched for the past few minutes.

"That can't be true; even I know the Latin for that spell... but I hadn't realized it was an Unforgivable," Harry murmured quietly.

"Unfortunately, Draco is very spoiled, and he truly didn't expect the spell to do that to you. He adores the ground his father walks on and always has; he believed for a good length of time that his father had been under the Imperius curse during the first war. Now that he's been raised thinking certain things, he just cannot reconcile the difference," Severus admitted, hoping against hope that Harry would allow Draco to get away with it just this once. Not that he would be going easy on his godson come the new term― he would learn his lesson ―but Azkaban wasn't something Draco needed. It would push him down the path for revenge against Potter, which would mean siding with Voldemort, unfortunately.

"Why are you asking me? It doesn't matter what I want; Dumbledore wouldn't allow me to press charges anyway," Harry said, confused by the fact Snape wanted him to decide his godson's fate. It was almost like… independence in a way, and Harry wasn't used to that; he had always been used to having every little decision made ―and being manipulated into― for him, all the time.

Severus was curious about the lack of respect Potter had for Dumbledore, but let it slide. "Potter, don't be stupid; you have more influence than Dumbledore or Lucius Malfoy could hope to have," was all his teacher said, exasperation clear as day in his voice.

"What? Because I'm the Boy-Who-Lived?" Harry sneered at the name, looking so much like Severus Snape that his teacher was taken aback very badly. He had never, ever seen Harry Potter sneering before in his four years of knowing him. What was more daunting was how well it actually suited Potter's features at the moment.

"Yes," admitted Severus; if he had that kind of power he would flaunt it... well, maybe not; it just all depended. He wasn't sure how he would react in Potter's shoes, because he wasn't, and would never be, in the boy's shoes. Speculation was useless unless you were actually in someone's circumstances.

"You saw the papers," Harry eventually whispered, his face bowed and his posture one of defeat.

Ah, thought Severus, he had forgotten about that; the Ministry and the Prophet were currently calling the boy an insane, attention-seeking liar. Of course he would have said the same, but over the past week or so he had seen a new side to the boy, one that, against all odds, he respected and liked, even if he wanted his cocky, defiant Potter back to annoy. He hated to admit it and refused to do so: he liked the obedient Harry rather than the arrogant, conceited, and downright rude Potter he had sometimes dealt with.

"Perhaps at the moment you have a point; you understand why they are doing it, don't you, Potter?" Severus cautiously asked.

"They just don't want to admit he's back," muttered Harry dryly.

"Yes. The last war was very bad indeed… people were going missing, being killed; the Ministry was being taken over. The world was awash with fear, people hoping for some miracle…Hogwarts was just about to be invaded by Voldemort's troops, then all of a sudden on Halloween night it all stopped, as if the world had been put on standstill," Severus explained, his voice haunted as if he were reliving the horror. "They had indeed stopped using his name for fear of him finding them… you see, he had put a spell on his name: anyone brave or stupid enough to speak it would find themselves surrounded by Death Eaters and permanently silenced."

Harry gulped silently― it sounded horrific. With startling clarity he realized why people refused to say his name. For some reason, all he could think was what Tom Riddle had told him in the Chamber of Secrets: "A name I knew wizards everywhere would one day fear to speak, when I had become the greatest sorcerer in the world!" Ironically enough, even at the age of fifteen or sixteen, Voldemort had been right. If that was what awaited the wizarding world once more, ignoring him didn't make him still not there. They should be preparing themselves to defend against him. "Oh," Harry said very quietly. He felt very uncomfortable; he wasn't used to being given the truth so bluntly. He had in his own way been protected, not like Ronald Weasley, but kept ignorant of what Voldemort was truly capable of, while he was forced to play the hero.

"The man you have faced is but a shadow of the man he used to be, a spectre. You have to realize, Potter, up until now you have been lucky. Very lucky indeed—also very foolish to do what you did," Severus told the boy. He had wanted to strangle the boy for the bloody stunts he had pulled off over the years.

"That's hardly fair!" Harry protested hotly, unable to help himself.

"And why is that?" Severus asked sarcastically. He had yet to ask the boy more about his relatives, but he would get there in the end. He doubted the boy even knew he was opening up to him, but Severus was used to these tactics― he had used them often enough. He feared if he left the boy to it he would just remain silent; this way he was actually gaining the boy's trust, or at least he hoped so, even if they were sitting talking about the Dark Lord. Like it or not, the boy's life centered on that monster.

"I was practically forced to do it!" Harry snapped furiously.

"Really? Quirrell take you down there at wandpoint, did he?" Severus asked, looking slightly amused.

Harry pursed his lips, breathing heavily; he couldn't believe how Snape was blaming him for things he had no control over. The fear he usually had of adults had left him before he sat at the table; he didn't know why, but he was furious at Snape for this. "No! but…" he protested hotly before his voice trailed off in a whisper, as if he was afraid to admit this to anyone, never mind an adult. "Dumbledore planned it all… he wanted me to go down there."

Severus raised an eyebrow in shock at what the boy had just revealed to him― blaming Dumbledore for his actions? That was unexpected, to say the least, but the boy believed he was telling the truth and that was a curious thing indeed. "How can that be the case?" Severus eventually asked.

"He gave me my father's cloak for Christmas… I… he signed it, telling me to use it well," Harry murmured, his face twisted bitterly. "No matter where I left it, it still ended up back in my dorm."

"You lost such a priceless heirloom?" Severus asked, taken aback.

Harry flushed bright red, how did he admit what was coming next? "I'd run into the Mirror of Erised; it wasn't even hidden!" Harry protested hotly, not wanting Snape to think he had gone looking for it or anything.

Severus' eyes had gone a little wide; he had to stop his jaw from dropping in shock. Dumbledore had left the blasted mirror where students could get their hands on it? Not just any student, but Potter? Oh, he was going to have a word with that old fool. If it had been one of his snakes, the shit would have already hit the fan. With Potter's past, he was surprised the boy had been able to pull himself away from it.

"It was the first time I'd really seen my parents … and me, I had very short hair, and my forehead wasn't marked, and I had a brother and sister," Harry said wistfully, not realizing he had just told his heart's desire to Snape, of all people; he didn't seem aware of anything other than his wistful thoughts.

Severus swallowed heavily. Months ago he would have accused the boy of seeing something along the lines of being prefect and Head Boy, and having all the friends he could ever have. Or being told Black was adopting him or something along those lines. He couldn't believe the boy had just told him his heart's desire; what could be more trusting than that? Even if it could never be true. He certainly was going to have a word with Dumbledore for his carelessness.

"I even told Professor McGonagall that someone was after the stone," Harry sighed as he morosely helped himself to some food, feeling peckish despite the conversation he was having.

Severus almost choked on nothing. If what this boy was telling him was true, and he knew that to be the case, why hadn't McGonagall done something? If it had been he that they had come to, he would have checked on the stone, eleven years old or not. Especially knowing such weak protections were on the stone, he would definitely have gone down.

"I knew it was him; Hermione had found out what the stone did, and I was scared," Harry admitted, wondering why he was explaining everything to Snape. Why was he doing it? He should stop, he really should, before he was spilling all his secrets, but for the life of him, he couldn't. He didn't know why, but damn it, he didn't want to stop. He wanted someone to hear his side of things. He hadn't been able to talk to someone before, not someone who would listen. Snape, true to his words earlier, was listening and not coddling him like a baby, and it was a strangely welcome relief to feel a weight coming off his shoulders.

"You knew he would come after you… so you risked your life and two others to fight him?" Severus asked dryly. He didn't blame the boy; he would have done the same if their situations had been reversed, and he knew it.

"I never knew he would be down there. I was just going to get the stone," Harry protested, his face a stony mask. "I told them not to come with me; they insisted, and I didn't know much magic then, anyway."

That made sense to Severus; of course the boy probably hadn't known Voldemort was down there. He was still surprised the boy had managed to actually defeat Quirrell and stop Voldemort. A boy who had only known less than a year's worth of magic, most of it probably useless in the face of adversity.

"You know, for a moment down there, I wanted to give the stone to him," Harry admitted, his eyes glazed, his expression tormented. He didn't see Snape's eyes widen in complete astonishment and incredulity.

"He promised me my parents, said he could bring them back, and we would rule together," Harry smirked. "Of course I knew deep down he was lying; as much as I wished it, I knew it wasn't true."

"Indeed," Severus said smoothly, his mind in turmoil at what he was learning. What on earth had happened down there? All he had known was, the boy had denied the Dark Lord the chance to return to full strength, and that Lily's protection had turned Quirrell to dust. He hadn't truly thought about it―it was how the Dark Lord worked, making promises he had no intentions of keeping. It was a good thing Potter had refused, or he would have indeed gotten his parents back ― in the afterlife, as soon as the Dark Lord had killed him. He was surprised Potter was giving in so easily and talking to him, telling him things. Then again, when did Potter not surprise him? He seemed to like to pull the rug out from under Severus constantly.

What got to him was Harry's adamant statement that Albus knew; it wasn't something he liked to think about. Surely Albus wouldn't endanger Potter by purposely setting out for the boy to meet the Dark Lord. If anyone knew just how insane the Dark Lord was, it was Albus.

Seeing that the boy wasn't about to divulge any new information, he began eating his own dinner, lost in thought. If Dumbledore did know, he would never hear the end of it from Severus Snape. He wasn't a man that forgave or relented easily, if at all, and sending the boy, Lily's son, to the Dark Lord made him furious. He hadn't risked his life to save the boy just for Dumbledore to test him all the time. That stopped the fork in midair, his thoughts having surprised him. He knew there and then that Harry was telling the truth: Dumbledore had been testing him. Hence the easily beatable defences he had set up: they had been meant for a first-year to get through. He nearly snarled in silent fury; oh, Dumbledore was in for it the next time Severus Snape saw him.

Both soon left the dining room to do their own things for the night. It was approaching nine o'clock when Severus knocked on Harry's door.

"Come in," called the same voice as usual, only this time Severus could hear the caution in it.

"Potter, this salve will get rid of the marks on your back... that is, if you trust me enough to apply it," Severus said as curtly as usual.

Harry looked deeply conflicted at that; if there wasn't any proof, Snape couldn't use it against him. However, the thought of actually letting Snape near enough to him to touch him made him sick. Snape would be behind him, in his blind spot, and if he wanted he could do anything. Then what came to his mind was how many times Snape had saved his life. The broom incident, and Snape’s pushing the three of them behind his back came to mind. Despite everything, Harry knew Snape had been given plenty of better opportunities than this one to hurt him if he had wanted to.

With a sad sigh he nodded his head; he'd give Snape the benefit of the doubt. Not that he truly had reason to doubt him; surely Snape wouldn't bother with the potion if he wanted to harm him ― he would just do it.

"Take the shirt off and move down to the bottom of the bed," said Severus curtly, again surprised that Harry was allowing him to help.

Harry did as he was told, moving slowly, fingering the hem of the t-shit he was wearing. A resigned look plastered itself across his features before he removed it, obviously deeply uncomfortable about revealing himself to his teacher. Severus had seen it all and wasn't shocked by much anymore. The shock that Harry was abused had more to do with the fact that he was the Boy-Who-Lived, not that a child was actually abused. If there was no hope for Harry Potter, who the hell was there hope for? A very valid question in reality.

Harry couldn't help but flinch at the first touch, but his Potions Master didn't seem to care, for he continued putting the cream on the scars that adorned his back; they were absolutely everywhere, from his shoulders down to his boxer line. Vernon had never gone further, and for that he was thankful. It would have been impossible to sit down during classes for the first month, although it wouldn't have been the first time his uncle had kicked him until he was black and blue, not just on the backside, but everywhere. He would never do anything to his legs most of the time; he wanted him able to do his chores, so his wife didn't have to.

He could feel the magical properties in the potion already working, knitting the skin back together properly. He couldn't remember the last time his back had been unblemished, not since Vernon had begun using the strap. At first the belt hadn't left permanent marks, unless he'd used the buckle end. It had cut into his skin, making him bleed, and that's what Snape was seeing as the result.

"When did it start?" Severus asked roughly as he smeared the potion on, seeing the scars fade under his hands.

Harry remained quiet; he hadn't admitted it yet, and admitting it would make everything real. He knew Snape knew, but he didn't like admitting it, especially not to a wizard, or even Snape in this case.

"You don't have to talk about it, but trust me, Potter, it helps," Severus curtly advised. He almost sighed in exasperation as the boy remained defiantly silent. "Would it help if I promise I won't tell anyone unless I feel I must?" he asked, rolling his eyes. He wouldn't ever promise not to reveal it to anyone; Dumbledore had to know, and he would know. Dumbledore would never send the boy back there; he would kill them first.

Perhaps that would be the best thing to do, send them gift-wrapped to the Dark Lord. It would be a nice present for him. Of course he would have no idea that Potter wouldn't miss them, he would simply think he had dealt Potter another harsh blow. The Dark Lord would never lower himself to actually read Muggles' thoughts, that much he knew. Then again, they weren't normal Muggles... Obliviated and gift-wrapped, then? Might be a good idea. He would have to think about it, all the upsides and downsides of his decisions, but the bloody Muggles wouldn't get away with abusing Potter. He might not like the brat, but even he wouldn't physically abuse a child, even if that child did remind him of James bloody Potter― in looks only, he added to himself almost reluctantly.

"I don't remember a time when I wasn't," Harry finally sighed, his shoulders sagging in defeat.

"The physical abuse?" Severus repeated, wanting confirmation meanwhile trying to keep the disbelief from his voice.

"My uncle doesn't like magic," Harry explained, as simply as that.

"When did you do your first piece of accidental magic?" Severus asked curiously.

"I don't remember a time when weird things didn't happen around me." Harry shrugged indifferently, again asking himself why he was telling Snape this, but he had felt oddly reassured when Snape said he wouldn't tell unless he had to. Snape had never lied to him before, and he knew that. He always told him the truth, regardless of whether or not he liked it. He had never had an adult to talk to before; he hated the fact it was Snape, but he was too relieved to care.

"'Weird things'?" Severus quoted, confused and obviously wanting an answer.

"I didn't know I was a wizard until Hagrid told me," Harry shrugged again. "They didn't want me going to Hogwarts and tried to stop me."

"So when you came to Hogwarts you knew nothing?" Severus asked, incredulity washing over him.

"I had only found out two weeks before Hogwarts started that I was a wizard and how my parents really died," Harry told the Potions Master quietly.

"Just what did they say had happened?" Severus asked, his eyes narrowed in anger. No wonder the boy hadn't known anything! Two weeks! That wasn't enough time to learn the things one needed to know when entering a new world. No wonder the brat had been unable to answer his questions on the first day! He had assumed the boy was too lazy to open his books, and wasn't interested in potions; even if he had, he would still have treated the boy unfairly. He hadn't a choice, unfortunately; Death Eater children were at Hogwarts, reporting back to their parents, no doubt.

"That they were drunks who died in a car crash," Harry sadly sighed. He had believed them; he'd had no reason not to. He had remembered a green light and a high, cold laugh that he had always assumed were traffic lights and his father's laughing before crashing into something. That's what he had always assumed had happened to his parents; he even had a mark on his forehead, apparently proving something of the sort had happened.

Severus closed his eyes; his idea of sending the Dursleys to Voldemort was getting more credible as the time went by. Petunia Evans had turned into a right bitch, and he would look forward to meeting her again. He would enjoy killing her― how dare she besmirch her sister's name in such a way? Lily was ten times the woman she could ever hope to be. Nostrils flaring, he finally finished putting the salve on the child's back, but he didn't move.

"Your Hogwarts essays? Your work― why, when I know you are capable of so much more, do you turn in abysmal work?" Severus asked, stopping himself from grinding his teeth in frustration.

Harry remained silent; this time his head bowed lower, if possible; the child had wrapped his arms around his stomach by way of self-comfort. He felt his heart contract at the sight― how many times had he himself done that? But at least he had had his mother for comfort. What had Harry Potter had? Whom had he had? No one, and that made him very upset. The boy needed someone who could comfort him, Black or his friends; he shouldn't be locked up in a manor with a teacher. He began to realize just how lonely Harry Potter truly was in the world.

"A verbal answer, if you please," Severus said; his voice was soft but firm― he wanted an answer.

"I got a report card at the end of the year; I was five, nearly six years old. I stupidly thought they might actually be proud of me. Instead I was beaten for embarrassing them, or rather doing much better than their son, and shoved in my cupboard for three weeks without food. It was a good thing, really; he had broken my wrist, and I wouldn't have been able to do my chores," Harry shrugged.

"Those animals are the reason you do not do your best?" Severus asked furiously, fighting hard to keep from snarling, "What do you mean, your cupboard? And do you really mean you went without food for three weeks?" Gift-wrapped to the Dark Lord was too good for the likes of them! Perhaps he should have some personal fun with them first. He had a lot of experimental potions he could try on them; that would be fun.

Harry had stiffened, hearing the furious voice so near to his personal space; nothing good ever came of someone so furious, so near to him. But nothing happened; Snape just sat there waiting for him to answer. He refused to turn around and see Snape, or he wouldn't be able to continue telling him. He slipped off the bed and opened his trunk. Snape watched through hooded eyes, wondering what the boy was up to. He brought out a faded, half-burnt piece of parchment. It was familiar ― it turned out it was an acceptance letter to Hogwarts.

Harry handed it over to his teacher, watching his reactions for the first time, anxious when those dark eyes widened in disbelief. He knew Snape had figured out what the paper meant, knew his teacher wasn't stupid.

"They kept you in a cupboard?" Severus asked, struggling with his inner turmoil. He was always supposed to be calm and collected; none of the other students' words had affected him like that. Perhaps because it was Lily's son, or perhaps it was because he hadn't dealt with a case so bloody bad before.

Harry James Potter  
The Cupboard under the stairs   
Number 4 Privet Drive   
Little Whinging   
Surry   
England 

"It's all I knew for ten years," Harry whispered, still standing rather awkwardly.

"That house has four bedrooms!" Severus hissed indignantly.

"The master bedroom, my Aunt Marge's guest bedroom, and my cousin's bedroom, and his spare one for all his broken junk," Harry nodded. "Do you know how those are written out? Does anyone see them?" It was a question he had wanted to know since he had gotten the first letter. That letter he had pulled out of the fire; it only had the address on it, everything else had been burnt. He hadn't known what it said but he had always kept it; it had been proof someone knew him, where he was, and what was going on in Privet Drive.

"Hundreds of those letters are sent out each year; most don't accept, or they go to a different magical school. Professor McGonagall has an enchanted quill that writes her signature out for her," Severus replied, understanding the reason behind Harry asking.

"I guess that makes sense," Harry allowed grudgingly, remembering Skeeter's poisonous quill with no small amount of distaste.

"What happened once the first letter appeared?" Severus asked, gesturing to Harry to sit down. He put the jar of salve into his robes, out of sight; there would be no need for it, now that the scars were gone. Now if only it was that easy to get rid of the mental scars, but he knew they never faded away... not truly, anyway. All he could do was help the boy get over it, make him see it wasn't his fault, and live his life.

"My uncle thought wizards were watching them; he gave me my cousin's second bedroom. My cousin wasn't happy about that, and he made sure I knew it." Harry shuddered. He and his gang of friends had been more ruthless than ever with him during that time.

"Why didn't you tell anyone, Potter? You wouldn't have had to return to them," Severus asked once again, hoping he got an answer from the boy this time. He saw the hooded look the teenager gave him and waited patiently to see if he would be given a truthful answer, or even an answer at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Jake and Jordre for editing :)


	9. Chapter 9

A New Place To Stay 

Chapter 9 

Admitting The Truth 

Severus watched Harry pace back and forth; he knew there and then the child was conflicted on whether or not to tell him the truth. His onyx eyes trailed the teenager, mind completely blown with everything he had learned. A cupboard, a bloody cupboard! The hero of the wizarding world, stuck in such a place, discarded as the house-elves usually were. It made him furious with the teenager for not telling someone. Ten minutes had gone by, Severus noted idly as he continued watching the teenager. He knew there and then he would have to fight Harry to get an answer. "An answer, if you please," he ground out.

"It doesn't matter," Harry growled; there was no point in admitting anything further to Snape. He would be back at the Dursleys' next year, no doubt, or probably somewhere just as bad. Dumbledore, it seemed, didn't want him having an ounce of happiness in his life. He sure would love to know why; what could Dumbledore's motives be for keeping him unhappy? He was baffled; he just kept drawing a blank when he thought about it. He wondered silently if Tom Riddle had been truthful when he had told Harry he'd begged Dumbledore not to let him go back to the orphanage. He knew he had been― he knew, because the exact same thing had happened to him.

"Why didn't you tell anyone, Potter? Where is that blasted Gryffindor bravery of yours?" Severus sneered, goading the teenager and hoping to get an answer that way.

Harry's nostrils flared in anger. "I was supposed to be in Slytherin!" the teenager sniped back, hoping it would shock Snape into calling him a liar or stop him questioning him on this.

Severus knew the teenager was telling the truth once again, and he was rightfully shocked, but he also knew the teenager was just distracting him from his original question. So he decided to allow the teenager to think he had won, but he was truly curious. "How is it that you aren't?" Severus asked curiously.

"Because I told it not to. I had met people who told me Slytherin was an evil house, that only dark wizards went there. And I had just met Malfoy; he reminded me too much of my cousin: a spoiled… um, boy," Harry replied, feeling triumphant that he had successfully diverted Snape's attention. He had been about to say spoiled brat, but he wasn't sure how Snape would react to him calling his godson a spoiled brat.

"Slytherin or Gryffindor, why didn't you tell anyone? I'm sure McGonagall would have pitched a fit if you had told her," Severus said indifferently. If Harry had been sorted into Slytherin, he might have spotted the signs; better yet, the boy might have come to him and confided in him. His Slytherins knew he wasn't as evil as he portrayed to the world― Slytherin house came first, before Voldemort— which would surprise the boy. Well, to most people house loyalty came first, unless they had been raised like his godson to serve Voldemort... not raised, but conditioned, he supposed silently.

Harry grimaced; well, he hadn't successfully diverted Snape. Okay, here goes, thought Harry, time for the lies. "I didn't tell anyone, because what was the point? Who would believe me? After all, I defeated Voldemort when I was one year old! Who would believe a Muggle would have been able to hurt me?" He didn't know why he was so reluctant to tell Snape about Dumbledore.

"That's a lie if I ever heard one," Severus responded, watching the teenager intently.

Harry stopped, his shoulders slumping. Snape always knew when he was lying; he didn't know how the man did it, but he did. It was annoying as hell, the way he always looked at him suspiciously when he was lying. The day the stone was stolen, the lie when the chamber had re-opened, which might explain Snape's stunned look when he spoke Parseltongue. Surely the man couldn't possibly have thought he had anything to do with it? thought Harry indignantly, suddenly feeling very embarrassed and wondering if that was how Snape would feel if he'd ever admitted to thinking it was him. Snape had always had an uncanny ability to know when he was lying, and it disturbed Harry to no end. Nobody else knew when he was lying. He wasn't being proud or stuck up; he knew how good he was at projecting confidence or any other emotion he needed when it suited him. He was very good at hiding his pain, hiding his hurt, hiding his weaknesses.

"How do you do that?" Harry asked, barely able to keep the whine out of his voice.

Severus smirked wickedly, unable to stop himself "It's a talent, Potter; so who have you told that's sent you back?" he mused, the words alone sending chills down his back. There were only two teachers Potter trusted: his Head of House and the Headmaster. He didn't even want to contemplate the thought of their sending their precious Potter back to abusive relations.

"What does it matter?" sighed Harry. He was standing facing the window, not even looking at his Potions Master anymore. It seemed like a very odd dream, like he was about to wake up any moment. There was no way he was standing in his borrowed room with Snape, discussing this; it seemed too surreal, and that was saying something, as Harry had seen many surreal things in his four years at Hogwarts. Well, surreal to him, but maybe not to others who had been in the wizarding world all their lives.

"It matters to me, Potter," Severus harshly contradicted. He idly noticed how skinny the teenager was; he could count each vertebra in his spine, and his ribs almost poked out of his too-stretched-over skin. His heart clenched, seeing Harry looking so small and defeated as he gazed out at the grounds of Prince Manor. He was getting familiar with those pangs of guilt and shame, but they still bothered him to no end.

"At the end of my first year, I, um, asked Dumbledore if I could stay, that I'd even live with Hagrid and clean Hogwarts rather than go back to the Dursleys'." Harry sadly sighed, a wistful note in his voice. Asked? He had bloody begged, thought Harry sadly; to say he had been shocked when Dumbledore still insisted he was going back was like saying he had been happy to see Voldemort in a tutu. "He told me I had to go back; the protection of my mother's blood was more important. He even brought up Quirrell, too, so I had no choice. He's made the decisions that've governed my entire life, and I don't understand why. I know he expects me to fight HIM; I just don't understand why. I don't know how I defeated him when I was a baby; I don't believe I had much to do with it, either, if needing my mother's blood protection is anything to go by."

For the first time in his life, Severus Snape was speechless. He wanted to call the boy a liar but he couldn't. He knew damn well the boy was telling the truth; he also knew of the prophecy that had governed Harry's life since before he'd been born. He had been there when it had been spoken, and when Lucius and Avery had reported back to Voldemort about it. He'd had no choice but to back up their words, and tell Voldemort he hadn't heard any more of it than they. Voldemort had been furious, but pleased; he was obsessed with divination and finding out that he would conquer the wizarding world.

He believed the boy more than ever now, as he began to put things into order. Harry had said Dumbledore had wanted him to go after the stone; that much he believed now. Dumbledore was testing Harry, trying to get him to fulfill some prophecy. He wished more than ever he knew the full contents of it, but no one other than Dumbledore knew. Trelawney couldn't remember, unfortunately, as was the case with all predictions from seers. The only way to retrieve it would be to go to the Hall of Prophecies, and only Harry would actually be able to retrieve it. What he knew Dumbledore was doing went against his oath to protect Harry, the oath he had sworn for Lily and later Dumbledore.

Harry looked at his teacher's stunned face. Usually it would have caused him fear, or even the strange urge to laugh that he could get Snape to feel anything. Most people accused him of being a bat or vampire, an unfeeling bastard all around. He had fallen prey to thinking those thoughts many times; no one could blame him. He was the subject of Snape's cutting remarks, the most and the worst. Such hatred spewed from Snape's diatribes. He still didn't understand it, but so far this summer, Snape hadn't been nasty outside the public eye, which was rather odd, but hey, he wasn't about to bring it up and risk Snape's wrath. He was sure whatever he was telling Snape couldn't be affecting the man that much.

"I see," Severus calmly said; inside he was anything but serene.

"Sir?" Harry warily asked.

"Tomorrow we shall go and get you new clothes," Severus said, abruptly getting up. He had much to think about, and he didn't want to do it in the presence of his student.

"But I can't!" Harry protested before he could help himself. Maybe if he explained it to his teacher he would understand, although he needed to find out how to stop Vernon from getting any more of his money.

"And why not?" Severus asked, arching his eyebrow curiously, not truly interested in the answer, but indulging the boy all the same.

"I don't have enough money! I've only got enough in my vault to get my school things for the next three years, that's if my… Vernon doesn't get any more of my money," Harry said quietly. He hadn't seen his vaults since first-year. Second-year Molly had made the withdrawal; third-year the Ministry had done it for him. Fourth-year had been Molly again. So he didn't have any idea what was left in his vaults, if he even had anything at all.

He didn't understand why Snape was laughing, even if it did send chills down his back. Snape's laugh wasn't pleasant to hear. It was freaky; it sounded as sarcastic as the man usually was, and he just stood there stunned, his mouth agape.

Severus couldn't help himself. He let out a great big bark of amusement; he hadn't heard anything more amusing in his life. There had been a reason, other than the fact he believed the boy spoiled, for calling him a spoiled brat. He didn't know whether to be amused or shocked that the boy didn't know of his vaults. The goblins should have informed him of his holdings the first time he entered their bank at the age of eleven. He stopped himself from laughing anymore when he noticed the boy's look; he looked completely stunned.

"What happened the first time you entered Gringotts, Potter?" Severus dryly asked.

Harry blinked stupidly at the unexpected question. "Hagrid took me in; he had my key― we went down to the vault. I took out the coins I needed for my school things, then he went to the other vault and took out the Philosopher's Stone, insisting it was top secret for Dumbledore. We went back up, and I got my things," Harry answered, totally bewildered.

"You truly do not know?" Severus asked, now the one stunned.

Harry just stared at his teacher as if he was something weird he hadn't encountered before.

Severus pushed back his long black hair in exasperation. Having Harry Potter living with him was anything but uncomplicated. He hadn't expected it to be quite so… daunting or bloody shocking, to say the least. He sat back down on the bed, watching Harry once again with those onyx eyes of his. It was as if he was trying to work this Harry Potter out, as if he hadn't truly seen him before. In reality he hadn't, he had seen what he'd wanted to see, what Harry Potter had wanted everyone to see.

"Potter," Severus sighed, "You are the last heir to a very long line of wizards, even if your mother was a Muggle-born. You are still entitled to a vast amount of money, your inheritance, if you will, from your family. They were much like the Malfoys; the money you have is extensive."

"It must all be gone… I saw my vault four years ago… and I know it's nearly all gone―it has to be," Harry objected.

"That, Potter, was money your parents put into that vault for you to spend during your seven years at Hogwarts, to buy whatever you wanted during each school year, from any books you wanted, to sweets. No doubt if they had lived, they would have bought your school things for you," Severus said grudgingly. He hated talking about James Potter; it was even hard to talk about them as parents, knowing he had never had Lily to himself. If he hadn't become a Death Eater, he would probably have asked her to marry him; he hadn't realized taking that damn Mark would spell the end of his life, basically. His need for revenge had lost him his hope for a better future. All he could do was make sure his Slytherins had someone, that Harry managed to defeat Voldemort, and he would be happy. He just hoped it would be enough to earn Lily's forgiveness, even if he hadn't been the one to speak the contents of the prophecy to Voldemort first. When he thought about that, he thought about the wording of the vow; even then Dumbledore had known Harry was going to have to defeat Voldemort again. Which meant he must have known that Voldemort wasn't dead. Then again, Snape himself had known that; the Mark hadn't faded completely.

"Oh," was all the stunned teenager could say, blinking owlishly at his teacher as if suspecting it to be a joke. If it was true, then his money worries had all been for naught; he wouldn't have to try to get a job during the summer, after all. He could wait until he finished Hogwarts, and decide what he wanted to do... that was, if he managed to survive Voldemort's constant attacks. He had yet to have a normal year at Hogwarts, and with him back properly now, Harry doubted very much that anything would change.

"Sleep, Potter; tomorrow we will go to Gringotts and get it sorted," Severus said. He realized how much it must have been bothering the teenager, that he had fought him on it. Then again, compared to the Dark Lord, it wasn't exactly a pressing matter right now. If he didn't watch himself, he would find himself dead at the hands of the Dark Lord, not a nice thought, but the truth nonetheless.

"Yes, sir," Harry said automatically.

Severus got back up off the bed and went to his own room, his mind reeling with everything he had learned. If Dumbledore already knew, there was no point in going to him for help. He would have to deal with the Dursleys on his own, ensure they couldn't lay a hand on the boy again. Dumbledore would have to find somewhere else for Potter, or he would just bring the boy back here. That thought he didn't like much, bringing him back to his home again, but he refused to stand back and allow the teenager that was supposed to save the world, to be abused. He was no good to anyone dead; he refused to allow the boy he had been saving, to die at the hands of the Muggles he lived with. People wondered why witches and wizards joined the Dark Lord, with Muggles like him around abusing wizards. If his Slytherins found out, it would seal their hatred of all things Muggle. Like him, they believed Harry spoiled; again, if there wasn't hope for Potter, who was there hope for? That's the question his Slytherins would ask.

An idea on what to do with the Dursleys was already forming in his mind; it wasn't long before he began writing a missive to them. Erecting spells around it, he then folded it up and called for his hawk. Once his hawk was there, he put a spell on the bird too, knowing it was well-known in the Death Eater circle. If they were still watching the house, it would make everything for naught; he doubted the Dursleys would take it if they could see the hawk anyway.

"Number Four, Privet Drive, Ares, fast as you can," Severus said, running his long fingers down his wings before opening the window. It didn't take long for his hawk to disappear completely from the house. It would take Ares approximately forty-five minutes to get to Privet Drive. The hawk was appropriately named: Ares, god of war. Of course he had gotten the bird of prey many years ago, during the first war.

\----------0

"Aren't you glad that Potter brat isn't here this year?" Vernon asked, lying back on the sofa, looking extremely relaxed and happy. He had just had his dinner; Dudley was sitting watching the TV and oblivious to the world as usual.

"Yes," Petunia agreed, not meaning it; she had had to do the gardening herself today, when she knew Potter could have taken care of it. For years she hadn't had to do anything for the house or garden, except when the boy was at school, and now during the summer too. She had gotten lazy without even realizing it; she hated doing things when her useless nephew could be doing them. She knew Vernon would miss the boy sooner or later, especially when things didn't go his way. She wondered silently if he would take it out on her or their son; she hoped not. This was the first summer without Harry, and eventually Vernon's anger would get the better of him.

Just then what looked like an owl began pecking at their window; frowning, Petunia hoped that Potter was due back. She opened the letter and read the missive; Vernon and Dudley were inexplicably drawn to the letter for some odd reason. Only once all three of them were together, touching the note, did they suddenly feel as if they were yanked by the navel and transported.

\--------0

Harry lay on the bed, dressed in nothing but a pair of his Potions Master's underwear. He still couldn't understand why he was telling Snape these things; he had gone his entire life without a confidant. Why did Snape have to be right? Why was he suddenly telling him everything? There was nothing worse than a Snape that was correct all the time.

The worst of it was, he did feel better for having confided in someone, not only about the abuse, but also because the feeling of weight coming off his shoulders when he had realized (or had been told) that he did have enough money to get him through Hogwarts, was liberating. He felt like doing a jig around the room, he felt that excited.

Everything that had happened kept buzzing around his mind; life was… interesting, for lack of a better word. He didn't understand why Snape had stopped his chores, either. He knew Snape had started them because he'd thought Harry was spoiled; he had told him that much. The work had left him exhausted, but he was used to that; it helped him, keeping busy and doing things. Maybe Snape would give him work to do if he asked; he rather hoped he could tend to the garden. He loved working in the garden, especially around the new pond he had created, and of course the seeds he had put in. He wanted to watch them grow, feed them, water them, and know he had helped nature take its course. To know he didn't just take life away—here he thought of Quirrell, Lockhart, Cedric, his parents... and because he had not killed Pettigrew, his godfather had been forced into hiding.

Harry listened to the clock on the wall; there was no sound but the soft, constant ticking, and slowly but surely he began to nod off. He was unaware of everything happening around him, or the fact that the three people he hated more than anyone else in the world were in the same manor as he.

\-------0

"Where are we?" spluttered Vernon, looking around the dungeon room—which, by the way, had recently been cleaned by Harry Potter.

"I don't know," Petunia wailed, incensed. She was worried and angry; she knew she was with someone magical, and it filled her with dread.

"I want to go home! I'm missing my TV!" Dudley shrieked, screaming at the top of his lungs.

"Hush, Dudley, my poor Diddydums," Petunia shushed, trying to wrap herself around her very large son, unsure of who she was comforting more, herself or her son; she was afraid that it was Voldemort they were with. When she realized who it was, she would wish it were Voldemort.

"I want to go home," the spoiled, inept idiot repeated.

"Be quiet, Dudley," Petunia demanded right back; she had no idea where they were, and fear was settling into all three of them.

"Hello, Tuney," Severus said, his voice cold and hard as he moved from the shadows. To say he had been shocked hearing the whining of Dudley Dursley would be the understatement of the year. He'd thought he had met his share of spoiled children; now he realized he'd been wrong, very wrong. Dudley Dursley was the most spoiled child he had ever met. He presumed that Dudley would give even Voldemort the worst headache of his life.

"YOU!" Petunia hissed, her nostrils flaring.

"You know this freak?" Vernon asked, his jowls quivering, his eyes wide with fear.

"He used to live next door to us! He told my sister she was a freak just like him," Petunia hissed in reply, looking at Snape in disgust.

"My, my; you haven't changed a bit; I wonder what your parents would think of you now. Abusing… both of their grandchildren," Severus sneered; Dudley might be spoiled, but they were sending the boy to an early grave... not that he would live to see it happening.

"Leave them out of this, Snape," Petunia snarled; the man had struck a nerve there.

Vernon did a very stupid, stupid thing and charged at Severus with every intention of hitting him and getting his family out of there. Snape was faster; a spell was fired from his wand, and Vernon was suddenly confused as to why he was getting smaller, until he tried to scream, and all that came out was a squeak. Suddenly he was lifted into his wife's bony hands. Vernon nearly cried there and then, realizing he had been turned into a mouse or some other rodent.

"Change him back, Snape!" Petunia hissed furiously, her entire body trembling in fear. Her son was trying and failing to hide behind her bony body, curiously enough clutching his big fat bottom. That was something that piqued Snape's curiosity, but not enough to find out.

"Don't worry, you will be joining him," Severus smirked in satisfaction as he fired off the same spell again. Petunia ducked, and it hit her son straight in the chest; he, too, joined his father as a rat, and they were big fat ones at that. Petunia began crying, begging her sister's best friend to undo the spells and change them back.

"Please, Snape! Please!" Petunia begged, realizing the situation she was in.

"I wonder if you ever listened to your nephew when he begged for your husband to stop beating him?" Severus sneered, his lip curing as fury began bubbling off him.

Petunia blanched at that; how on earth could Snape know about that? How could Snape know anything about Potter? She was too stunned that he knew, even to think about lying― she just stood there, mouth agape.

"Didn't Lily tell you about my joining the Death Eaters, Tuney?" Severus drawled, his face a mask of utter loathing. He had hated her as a child, but that was nothing on what he felt for her now. The thought of all those years that Harry had lived in her cupboard like a bloody mop infuriated him. He might not be fond of the boy, but even he wouldn't have done that to him. Hell, even Voldemort wouldn't treat his captives like that; he killed them and got done with it—after a couple of rounds of torture, of course, but still, he didn't torture them for years.

Petunia began trembling even more noticeably at that, but she was also confused; why would Death Eaters care about her nephew? She knew they wanted him dead― Dumbledore had told them as much.

"I'm also a teacher at Hogwarts― I've taught your nephew for the past four years. Dumbledore insisted the boy stay with me this summer, to protect him; needless to say, I expected a spoiled brat. Instead, I found an abused boy," Severus sneered, his onyx eyes flashing dangerously, showing how close he was to losing control of his magic as he had done all those years ago, when he had caused a tree branch almost to decapitate her; he only wished he had managed to cause her permanent damage. Then again, Lily might not have forgiven him for that; she had been angry enough that the branch had fallen.

"He's a liar!" Petunia hissed furiously, her brain working in overdrive, trying to figure out how to get her husband and son back to normal and get them home.

"I saw the scars, Tuney," Severus hissed in return, his face closer than ever to hers. "I wonder what Lily would think of the coward you have become; be grateful that I have you, or it would be the Dementors for you."

He knew what to say; Petunia turned into a blubbering mess, completely petrified. She was crying and begging once more, but Severus had already had enough of her shrill, piercing voice and said the spell to turn her into a rat like her husband and son. Stunning all three of them, he walked towards his storage cupboard and transfigured three small bands to put on them. He soaked them in a potion that would make the spell permanent; they would never be able to turn back. They would live out their remaining days as rats for what they had done to Harry Potter.

Once the potion had been absorbed by the magical bands, he put them on the stunned, transfigured rats. Smirking in supreme satisfaction, he conjured a cage and set them inside. Once he ensured it couldn't be broken out of, he un-stunned the three of them. They would reap what they had sown all those years ago when they had first put Harry into that cupboard instead of looking after him as they should have done.

He smirked evilly at the three protesting, squealing rats scratching uselessly against the cage as he walked out. He had left no water or food for them, and wouldn't do so right away. They had obviously starved Potter; anyone could see that by just looking at him without his clothes on. So they would get a little taste of it. Maybe in a few years he would take the spells off and let them go, but right now he had no intentions of doing such a thing.

They would regret ever harming a wizard, never mind the fact it was Harry Potter.

That night Severus slept without nightmares; ironically enough, the boy at the end of the hall was doing pretty much the same thing for the first time that summer: sleeping without awful nightmares plaguing him... maybe it was the conversations, or the fact that he felt so much better about himself; Harry didn't know.

All night the three rats in the cold, dark dungeons of Prince Manor continued squeaking in outrage, unable to sleep as fear continued to consume them. As they continued trying in vain to get out of the cage and get free, they were unaware they would never see anything but that cold dungeon till the day they died.

Considering rats didn't have big life expectancies… it might not be long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOL I WANTED TO SEE SEVERUS ACTUALLY GET REVENGE ON THEM FOR WHAT THEY DID. MOST STORIES HAVE SEVERUS SWEARING REVENGE BUT NEVER GETTING AROUND TO IT SO HENCE MY DESIRE TO MAKE IT DIFFERENT HOPE YOU LIKED IT!
> 
> Big Thanks to Jake and Jordre for editing this :)


	10. Chapter 10

A New Place To Stay 

Chapter 10 

Gringotts, Wizarding World, and Muggle World 

Harry woke up, stretching leisurely and wondering why he was in such a good mood. Remembering yesterday, he sat up in bed abruptly; looking at the time, he almost swore. Grabbing his clothes, he ran to the bathroom and washed. He couldn't believe he had slept so long! Or all night, for that matter. It had, without a doubt, been the best sleep he had ever had since the dreamless sleeping potion after the Tri-Wizard Tournament, or since he had been dosed with potions when Draco had attacked him. Dropping his toiletries on his bed, he went down the stairs double-time. He skidded to a halt outside the dining room and walked in calmly, willing away his heavy breathing.

"You made it; good," said Severus simply; he had heard the teenager running along the landing, so had known he would make it. He knew better than even to think about letting Harry miss a single meal. Seeing how skeletal the teenager was, he knew the boy needed to eat more. Despite the fact he had been at Hogwarts all year, Severus knew the human body could only handle so much after years of malnutrition, especially when one was getting ready to go back to less food.

"Yes, sir," Harry agreed; not even showing he was winded, he walked round the table and took his seat.

Today Harry had a big bowl of porridge with fresh fruit. What he didn't know was that Snape had known he liked it and had requested it. Harry noticed he had a milkshake, an odd-coloured one: it was chocolate with swirling caramel-looking colours in it. He warily took a sip and immediately loved it, he practically gobbled it down, and it left him feeling pleasantly full and happy.

"That was lovely, what was it?" Harry asked, his large green eyes regarding Snape without his glasses, as he had forgotten them. Snape was struck by how different the teenager looked without them; he looked more like his grandfather and mother than his father. The hair, no doubt, was Potter's, but the face… the face did look like Henry Evans', if he wasn't mistaken.

"A nutritious milkshake, Mr. Potter; the strongest one, and yes, it does taste nice, surprisingly. The second-best nutritious potion you can get tastes like spinach or broccoli," Severus smirked.

"I like broccoli," Harry said simply, digging into his porridge with gusto. It wasn't bitter and wasn't sweet; for lack of proper words ― it was just right: Strawberries, bananas, figs, cinnamon, and sugar mixed together. Harry scowled at his own thinking; next he'd have the three bears next to him saying those words. The porridge did fill him up, a lot; in fact he felt that his stomach was fuller than ever. Even more strangely, it didn't feel overly full or uncomfortable, but just bothersome enough that he knew it was there.

"Finished?" Severus asked, once Harry had drunk his orange juice.

"Yes, sir," Harry replied.

"Polyjuice potion is not ideal for going to Gringotts, and Glamours aren't very reliable either, but we have no choice but to use them," Severus smoothly announced.

"Oh," Harry nodded jerkily.

Severus smirked wryly― so the boy knew what Polyjuice potion was; but then, of course he did: Crouch had been using it, and he had commented on what it was. It obviously wouldn't take long to join the dots, even if the boy had been as daft as he had accused him of being on occasion.

"I'm not spending all day shopping, Potter, so you'd best be on your best behaviour, and quick about it, too. Spending large amounts of time isn't what we want to do, and I do not want you using magic. They will have your signature, no doubt, and will be waiting for you to use it, seeing as you have in the past," Severus said sternly.

"I've only done underage magic once since I started at Hogwarts, and that was because Marge—my Uncle Vernon's sister— she said my mum had bad blood and that there was something wrong with her. She compared her to her disgusting puppies. Vernon had told her my mum and dad were drunk layabouts who got themselves killed in a car crash," Harry defended himself furiously. "I wasn't the one that did that hover charm! I didn't even learn it in first year! How was I to know? Dobby the Malfoy house-elf did it to stop me from going back to Hogwarts. He knew what Lucius Malfoy had done and was determined to save me… why me, I'll never know."

"And the tongue?" Severus demanded smoothly.

"Fred and George dropped one of their sweet tricks on the floor; Dudley was on a diet and couldn't resist. He ate it and ended up with a tongue the size of the living room. Part of me is so glad I didn't have to go back this summer," Harry shuddered in fear of what could have been done. He knew what Vernon was liable to do to him; it was Dudley that was unpredictable. Dudley couldn't care less whether he broke his bones or not, or whether he could do his chores. In fact, he loved it if he was able to get Harry into trouble, and took great delight in watching him whipped as hard as Vernon could. Harry was just glad Vernon was so out of shape that he couldn't last long, or he had no doubt each beating would have gone on much longer.

"I see," said Severus; how much had he misjudged the teenager? If what he said was correct, then he had only done one piece of accidental magic. There was nothing he was happier about than the fact it was over his mother. It seemed she wasn't forgotten by everyone after all. Severus had hated the fact that Lily seemed forgotten in the entire Boy-Who-Lived rubbish. Here sat a boy who loved his mother very much, obviously, to get emotional enough to blow up Marge Dursley. It was an impressive display of wandless accidental magic. Most people could make something disappear or smash something in anger; he had known Lily was powerful, seeing her actually manipulating her magic to make her float and to make dead flowers come back to life. If he knew some of the things Harry had done, he would be shocked to the core. Apparation, shrinking charms, Reducto curses, vanishing charms, and even colour-changing charms, which weren't taught until seventh year. The teachers didn't want to teach children things that would make them even worse during school, which included the distraction charm that made everyone ignore you or scuttle around you. Coloring charms and the like, things that could help students’ pranks, were always taught last.

"Stand in front of me; we will apply the charms," Severus said abruptly. "Do try to avoid using names if you can help it; you can call me sir, if it comes to it."

"Yes, sir," Harry acquiesced, wondering if he would have even called him anything but.

"This is a Portkey, and whatever you do, Potter, do not let it be seen, or they will know. It's got the Prince coat of arms on it; do you know what that means?" Severus asked, the last part almost sarcastically.

"No, sir," Harry murmured in confusion.

"The Prince name is as well known as the Potters’; if anyone sees it, it will be automatically connected to me," Severus explained, his voice dangerous.

"Oh. I'll be careful, sir," Harry said, taking the Portkey with sweaty palms; he looked green around the gills. Severus wanted to whack himself; of course the child would be deadly afraid of them. He had ended up seeing Voldemort's rebirth the last time he had touched one.

"Listen to me, Potter: it will only take you right back here. I configured it myself, and if I had wanted to send you away, trust me, you would already be gone," Severus said. He hadn't been able to help himself, he had to be cruel to be kind, a let-old-grudges-die-hard sort of thing. Strangely enough, Harry seemed to draw confidence from his words, as some colour came back to his face.

"Okay, let's do it," Harry said, taking comfort from the cold, sarcastic words.

Severus quickly charmed them both. It wasn't his long suit, but he had perfected glamours. It was the only way he could move around without suspicion clouding him like a mist. It stopped his former acquaintances from bothering him when he did go out; however, he hadn't put one on someone else before. His magic was strong, but if Potter didn't want it on, it wouldn't take much to break through the charms and leave the real boy standing there.

"Do you need anything else, Potter? Before we go?" Severus asked smoothly.

"No sir, nothing," Harry murmured, actually rather excited about going shopping and to Gringotts.

"What about the Tri-Wizard winnings, Potter?" Severus asked, arching an eyebrow in curiosity.

Harry suddenly found the floor very interesting; Severus had to strain to hear his next words. They left him stunned, baffled, shocked, and a small bit proud that the boy, despite his money worries, had given it away. "I gave my winnings to Fred and George; I had wanted to give it to the Diggorys, but I don't know where they live," Harry admitted sadly.

"Despite the fact you were worried you wouldn't have enough left to get yourself through Hogwarts?" Severus asked; his voice was different from anything Harry had ever heard.

"I didn't want it," Harry insisted, his face screwed up in distaste.

"Indeed; very well, shall we go?" Severus coolly asked.

Harry nodded his head, clasping the Portkey through his pocket and making sure it was still there. If anything happened, he was safe in the knowledge someone cared enough to take measures to get him back safe and whole. Cared was maybe going too far, but someone that wanted to ensure he was alive and fed. It was all rather strange for Harry: Snape hated him, the Dursleys hated him; Snape fed him, and the Dursleys didn't. The Dursleys would kill him, but Snape would save his life. It was a mass of contradictions, and he wasn't used to that. Hate, he could handle; someone that apparently hated him but saved his life constantly, he didn't know how to deal with.

Before long, both man and boy apparated outside of Gringotts. Harry did a double-take, looking at his professor. Blond hair? Blue eyes? Red t-shirt and—bloody hell!— a pair of jeans, and a black cloak? He had never seen a more absurd sight in all his life and had to stop himself from laughing at the image of Snape actually wearing such clothes, and not the glamour he could see.

"Let's proceed," Severus said, his voice different, more gruff than normal.

Harry just nodded, not wanting to hear what his voice would be like; it didn't surprise him that Snape's voice was different. Everyone knew Severus' Snape's voice, it was too distinctive to remain unaltered. It was the most defining thing about him; that voice was unmistakable. Harry wondered if his grandparents had known that even when he'd been a child. The voice of a poet, if he remembered correctly—and he did, because he'd spent a long time looking at the writing, trying to imagine his grandmother writing with such a hand.

That was the one thing he knew he could agree on with his grandmother: Snape did have the voice of a poet. It was just a damn shame that Snape had decided to be a sneering, sarcastic man rather than trying to rhyme words together.

"Where is your key?" Severus asked, his voice very different.

"I've never had it… Hagrid got my things in first year, Mrs. Weasley in second, Mr. Fudge in third, and of course, Mrs. Weasley again this last year," Harry whispered very quietly so no one could even try to overhear.

"Po… you idiot! You aren't supposed to give your vault key away or let others handle it!" Severus angrily snapped, shaking his head in agitation.

"How was I supposed to know?" Harry cried indignantly, as he was propelled forward towards one of the goblin desks. Severus knew they could see through all disguises, so simply in his best teacher's-voice he demanded a room and a goblin to see them.

Minutes later they found themselves in a very big room; Severus had thankfully calmed down. Honestly, how could Harry be so bloody clueless? Why hadn't they given the boy his vault key? He ignored the fact he wouldn't have given it to an eleven-year old, either. Then again, it hadn't been his responsibility; if it had been, the child would have at least known it was there.

"Hey, Griphook," Harry murmured without thought as the said goblin came through the door. He missed the shocked look on the goblin's and Severus' faces as he looked curiously around the former's office. There were a lot of gold and silver instruments, and marble everywhere; it was a beautiful place.

"You serve Mr. Potter when he comes to the bank?" Severus asked, his voice low and dangerous; his temper was close to the surface, Harry realized. He began to feel quite sorry for the goblin, but they were made of stern stuff, or rather, er, looked it.

"I do," Griphook acknowledged, his head staring straight up at the intimidating wizard.

"Care to enlighten me as to why it wasn't explained to him how much money he has, and his inheritance wasn’t discussed with him?" Severus inquired, his silky voice sending shivers down Harry's back. He was definitely mad, and the odd thing about all this was, he wasn't mad at Harry! He hadn't known anything could make Snape angrier than he could.

"I wasn't given the opportunity; Mr. Hagrid wouldn't allow it," Griphook stated without hesitation.

"And you left it at that? You disobeyed Gringotts policy?" Severus asked incredulously.

"I hadn't been aware it would be the last time I saw Mr. Potter," Griphook responded. Harry thought he looked a little nervous around the eyes, though the face remained the same ― impassive.

"Then I want it explained to him now," Severus demanded, his onyx eyes narrowed.

"Yes, sir," Griphook said, going around the desk and sitting down, rummaging through a massive drawer― a drawer that shouldn't have fit in that small desk, that was for sure. Harry almost grinned: he loved magic! Eventually the Goblin pulled out a massive folder and placed it on the table and began reading through it.

"Let's see... from the Potters, you have the ancestral Potter manor in England, a house in Godric's Hollow, a seven-bedroom house in Scotland, and another in England, a cottage and house in Ireland, and a house in Wales," Griphook announced, flipping through the property list. "This is a list of all the transactions you have made; this is a list of statements, which include how much you have and the interest you receive in your vaults. This shows the contents in all vaults," Griphook explained as he handed sheets of paper over to Harry. "From your mother you received a house in Privet Drive and a vault," he continued, handing over another few sheets.

Harry felt like laughing: he owned the house in Privet Drive! He owned the house, yet had remained in a cupboard; the ironies of life never ceased to amaze him sometimes. "How do I own number four, Privet Drive?" asked Harry curiously.

"Your grandmother and grandfather signed it over to your mother, obviously; and in turn you, her son, are next entitled to the house," Griphook told him.

Severus didn't bother trying to tell the teenager what he had done, he was rather curious to see if the teenager had the Slytherin cunning and guts to want them evicted from the house. If it had been he who had owned the house he'd grown up in, he would have chucked his father out.

"So I can throw them out?" Harry asked curiously.

"You can in one year's time, as the contract runs out then, unless they do not adhere to the conditions put forth in said contract," Griphook agreed, then qualified his statement.

"Dumbledore wouldn't be happy with that," Harry grinned, his green eyes sparkling with glee. Once again Severus noticed that he didn't have his glasses on; perhaps he would do best to tell the boy about the corrective surgery he could have. It would be best; after all, glasses were a hindrance when duelling. Or so he insisted to himself, it was certainly nothing to do with making the boy look less like James Potter.

"Mr. Potter, get yourself a Gringotts card, it works in both worlds," Severus advised smoothly. "It will save you from having to carry money and get it converted."

"It can be done for you right now, Mr. Potter, if you should wish it," Griphook offered politely.

"Yes, please," Harry said eagerly. He would have to make sure it remained hidden from the Dursleys, should he be sent back there. Dumbledore would always get his way, and Harry knew this, so he didn't even attempt anything yet.

"Very well; if you would wait here, I shall see it done," Griphook said, leaving the room as quickly as his small legs could carry him.

"Mr. Potter, I see you don't have your glasses on," Severus remarked calculatingly.

"No, sir; they hurt my eyes worse than not wearing them," Harry admitted.

"When was the last time you had your eyes tested?" Severus demanded. Perhaps his eyes were too bad to get the corrective surgery, especially if they were going downhill that fast. People usually got their eyes tested every two or three years unless they had problems, such as diabetes. He was confused as to why Harry had gone completely red, as if he was utterly embarrassed.

"I've never had them tested; my aunt brought me a pair home from Mrs. Mason's bin," admitted Harry reluctantly. Snape knew when he lied, so there wasn't any point, really. He also knew the worst, so what could it hurt to know that tidbit of information?

Severus narrowed his eyes; oh, Petunia Dursley was so going to get cursed when he got back. Perhaps it was time to use his experimental potion on them, one he was making for the Dark Lord. He could think of no one better to test it on, and for once he hoped it would bloody work. The Dark Lord wanted a potion that worked like the torture curse, but without the permanent effect of insanity. Of course he would never hand it over, unless it meant his death. He knew the irony of all ironies: it would end up used on him the most. Those thoughts calmed him down and brought him back; the teenager was staring at the floor, a red flush still permanently painted over his cheeks.

"If you wish it, there is corrective surgery you can have done; it only takes ten minutes at the most. It does sting like hell, but once it's over, you would have perfect eyesight and won't have to worry about glasses or headaches," Severus conceded smoothly.

"Oh," Harry said; he had to hold back the urge to say "wicked" as Ron usually did when he was hyper or excited. The thought of not having to wear glasses was a very relieving thing. He wondered why no one had ever told him that before—or was it simply to keep him looking and acting like James Potter that they didn't dare suggest something that would blow their images of him?

"Here you are, Mr. Potter. Madam Malkin's does some really nice wallets; perhaps you should go and see about getting one done," Griphook suggested, handing over a gold Gringotts card.

"Thank you, Griphook," Harry nodded; he took one look at the totals sheet and shook his head. No wonder Snape had laughed at him; he couldn't spend all that if he tried. Looking over the Vault Contents summary, he noticed that everything from Godric's Hollow was in a vault that had been opened the night it had happened.

"Stop the money the Dursley's are receiving in payment for their care of Mr. Potter," Severus demanded of Griphook. "They are no longer responsible for him."

"It will be done," Griphook replied immediately. 

"Can we go to the eye place, please, sir?" Harry asked softly and cautiously. He wasn't sure how asking where to go would be taken by his teacher. Obviously Snape hated silent people, or he wouldn't demand a verbal answer from him all the time. It was the opposite with the Dursleys: they didn't like hearing his voice or having him asking questions.

"Very well, let's go," Severus agreed, already walking towards the appropriate shop.

"I have a customer here that would like his eyes seen to," Severus declared as soon as he walked into the shop, in his usual no-nonsense manner.

"Very well; come in here and take a seat," Amy Bizet replied.

Harry did as he was told, suddenly feeling very nervous. What was worse, he got comfort out of the fact that his teacher was there with him, and that just wasn't normal. Snape hated him; he wasn't supposed to be comforted by the man's presence.

"I'm going to check to see how bad your eyes are; they have to be better than twenty-five percent, or the operation won't work, understand?" Amy asked softly and professionally.

"Yes, ma'am," Harry said nervously.

He had to stop himself from flinching a mile when she raised her wand; she set it between his eyes. He could feel the woman's magic touching them before withdrawing; before he knew it, paper was coming out of her wand.

She "hmm'ed" and "haa'ed" a few times before she began speaking again. "His eyes are quite bad, but the surgery will work," Amy decided, nodding her head; a neat bun stopped her hair from moving with her.

"Very well," Severus said smoothly.

"Now, how will you be paying? Cash, cheque, or card?" Amy asked, a form already being filled in.

"Card," Harry answered, handing over the said item almost reluctantly. Thankfully his name wasn't required to be on the front of it, or everyone would have known he was there by the time he left the shop.

Once the payment went through successfully, he was asked to lie back against the chair, which he was hesitant to do. He hated the unknown, and the thought of lying there defenseless while she did something to him rubbed him up the wrong way. "Why?" he asked cautiously.

"Don't worry; we will bind you to stop you from rubbing at your eyes. It will be done within five minutes," Amy told him, intending to soothe him.

"No, I'm not being bound by anyone!" Harry declared, his voice taking on an hysterical edge at the end.

Severus had to stop himself from snapping, by seeing it from the boy's point of view. He knew the boy had been bound while Voldemort was resurrected. Closing his eyes, he sighed in exhaustion; it was harder than he would have believed, looking after one teenage boy. What was worse, Harry wasn't really doing anything wrong; it was within his right to panic should someone want to restrain him. He wouldn't allow it either, so with a resigned grunt he walked forward and told her to do it, that he would keep a grip on his hands.

Harry's wary green eyes met his; he didn't bother with useless reassurances, and with a nod at her the spell was cast. He did indeed hold onto Harry's hands, but it was wasted effort, as Harry didn't as much as try to move. The only way Severus could tell he was in pain was the fact that his eyes were now scrunched shut. He supposed quite angrily that it was nothing compared to the curses he had experienced over the past few weeks. Once again he was incensed that a fourteen-year-old had experienced the torture curses. His godson wouldn't get away with it; his fifth year would be a mass of detentions for what he had done. One way or another, he would get through to his godson that life as a Death Eater wasn't for him.

"Well, I wish all my patients were like that," Amy said. Despite her words and professionalism, Severus could see her eyes were wider than normal― she was very surprised by the boy's pain tolerance.

"The sink over there is available; wash out the gritty texture you no doubt feel," Amy softly instructed.

Harry nodded, wincing at the bright light once he opened his eyes. Once that was done, he sighed in relief: they weren't stinging anymore. Finally he got to see the world properly for the first time in his life. Everything was so clear; he could read everything, see every single little thing. Harry couldn't have hidden the awe for the life of him; it was just the most amazing experience he had ever experienced in his short life.

"Thank you very much," Severus said curtly, gesturing for Harry to get a move on. Harry nodded his head and said his own thanks before following Severus, ensuring he had his card with him.

"Thank you for this, Pro… Sir… Why didn't anyone tell me about it before? Or perform the spell?" Harry asked as they began making their way to Madam Malkin's.

"I have no idea; to perform the spell you must master it. It's dangerous if amateurs practice it," Severus smoothly said. "If someone did it without experience, you could have ended up in severe pain or blinded altogether."

Harry's eyes widened at that thought, but he nodded his understanding.

By then they were at Madam Malkin's. Harry let Severus order everything for him, because he himself was unsure of what to do exactly. He got a whole new wardrobe made for him, even if he did go bright red when he was asked what underwear he preferred. He missed the amused smirk tugging at the sides of Severus’ face; the teacher suppressed rolling his eyes― teenagers. Honestly.

"I, um... don't care; I'll take some of each," Harry admitted, willing the flush to go down.

It wasn't long before he had a lot of clothes, underwear, shoes, boots... he even had a dragon-hide wallet. The only thing he didn't have was a casual wardrobe, Madam Malkin's didn't have normal clothes for everyday wear, just everyday wizard wear for school and special events. He shuddered at the very thought of a new Yule ball; one had been enough to last him a lifetime, and wizards' lifetimes were longer than Muggles'.

"Would you like your purchases shrunk?" Madam Malkin asked, handing Harry his card back. He had taken the wallet out of the packaging so it didn't get shrunk with the rest of the stuff. He placed the card in the wallet; despite how nice it was, it felt awfully empty, by itself in its own pouch. Shrugging his shoulders, he put his wallet in his pocket, feeling very smug and satisfied, and he wasn't sure why.

"Yes," Severus curtly said. He wasn't going to force the teenager to lug it around; he already looked as if a slight wind could knock him over. He had started the teenager on nutritious milkshakes and was giving him as much protein as he could. It would bulk him up― it was usually a high-protein diet that body-builders used, and that's what Harry Potter needed.

He took them into a café, and Severus ordered for both of them, ordering a normal lunch for himself and a fish dish for Harry. Fish, meat, and dairy― it was all rich in protein― and also a big glass of milk. He could see the child was confused, but he wasn't about to tell him he was concerned about him.

Hopefully by the end of the summer, he would have put on enough weight to get to a normal state for a boy of fourteen. Unfortunately, he wouldn't ever reach his intended height even with Snape's potions, but he could try. He couldn't believe people saw a hero when they looked at the scrawny boy; even his father hadn't been that small.

Harry could say he was very surprised when Snape ordered for him, but then that would be a lie; he was surprised his teacher had stopped for lunch, period. He couldn't deny, though, that the fish was amazing, and it filled him up. He didn't get fish very often, and he rather liked it, although he left the tail end of it after he found a little bone.

"Finished?" asked Severus when it was obvious he was. Harry just nodded, however, and before long they were apparating to the Muggle world. This surprised Harry greatly; then he remembered what Snape had told him: his father had been a Muggle, and he had obviously lived in the Muggle world, at least until he was seventeen years old.

It wasn't long before Harry was buying a whole new, different wardrobe. This time it was mostly everyday clothes he was buying. Jeans, jogging trousers; he got a few pairs of combat trousers he liked. Khaki-coloured ones; the colours the boy was buying actually surprised the Potions teacher. Harry even got a pair of chinos, turn-up shorts, and trousers in different colours.

Finally it was paid for, and Severus was looking for a spot to apparate from without people seeing or running into them. It was harder to apparate nowadays, with the advanced Muggle technology, CCTV in every direction― something they did not teach witches and wizards in Muggle Studies.

"Sir? Can I go into Boots to get some toiletries? I've, er, run out," Harry said, looking at his teacher worriedly. He knew he was pushing it, asking and asking, but he really needed new stuff and wasn't asking to annoy him.

Severus saw the veiled worry shining through the fixed green eyes; he felt saddened by it for some indefinable reason. Was Harry Potter that beaten he was hesitant to ask even a single question? Or was it just because he was with him? He had to find out just how badly the damage was the Dursleys had inflicted on Harry Potter.

"Of course, come," Severus said, hiding his exasperation. They quickly got into the shop and began browsing. Harry had a basket in his hand, and he was putting things he really needed into it: a new shaver, razors, shaving cream, three tins of deodorant, toothbrush, toothpaste, mouthwash, two bottles of shower gel, two bottles of shampoo and conditioner, and a new facecloth. He didn't even roll his eyes when the boy put muggle sweets and crisps into his basket and waited at the side for him to pay for everything. He didn't understand why the boy had bought muggle toiletries; the wizarding world had better stuff, and it lasted ten times longer.

"Is there anything else you need?" Severus asked, almost tempted to add "Mr. Potter" at the end, but forcing himself not to. Who knew who was lurking around; call him paranoid, but it was better paranoid than dead, at any rate. He was a spy; it was his job to be so damn paranoid. He instinctively knew the Dark Lord was too weak to do much of anything, never mind a raid, but the Death Eaters could be ordered to go on one. The Dark Lord seemed to be keeping himself on the down low; he hadn't planned on anyone knowing he was back. How anyone would explain how Harry Potter was supposed to have been found dead, Severus hadn't an idea. Thankfully that wasn't the case; once again he shook off his wandering thoughts even as his hawk-like eyes scanned the vicinity.

"No, sir, thank you, sir," Harry quickly said, not wanting his teacher to think he was ungrateful. He had never felt this carefree, even if he was with Snape, before in his life. The freedom just to spend money was extremely liberating, and he could have done it for days. However, Harry wasn't one to waste money; he bought what he needed and no more.

"Then let's get back and see what's been made for dinner," Severus grunted; he was rather hungry, and it was beginning to get dark now. Before long, they finally found a deserted alleyway and apparated into Prince Manor without being seen. Severus unshrunk everything and floated it to Harry's room.

"Go shower, change, and put everything away, then come down for dinner; do not worry about the time. It can wait― but only for today," warned Severus, and Harry nodded eagerly, already bounding up to his room.

Severus went to check on his guests. The rats had stopped moving; they were just watching him wearily. The skinniest of the lot started screeching as soon as it saw Severus; it was a good job he knew which was which. Severus threw a pain curse at her, not an unforgivable, unfortunately; he had no desire to go to Azkaban. This would be painful, though, and it would make him feel better. After everything that had happened today—Harry's poor eyesight, the fact he hadn't had his eyes tested or glasses of his own, his pleasure at buying something, clothes of his own—had touched Severus deep down, perhaps because he knew what it was like; he knew how the teenager felt, personally. He had been the same. Once he had finally passed his Potions Mastery and begun earning money, then of course he got the Prince money too. Being able to buy something felt very infectious; seeing the green-eyed boy so happy had almost done that to him.

Vernon and Dudley squealed and hid as far back as they could from him and his wand. Leaving the mother and wife of the rats to squeal and squirm in pain, he continued using different spells for at least twenty minutes before he quit. The room was deadly silent after that, it was as if everything was afraid to breathe for fear of something happening. Once he knew that Tuney was still alive, he turned around and abruptly left, feeling better about everything once more.

Dinner for Harry consisted of steak, egg, and a few vegetables, all things that were good for building muscle. Harry thought it rather odd; who wouldn't? Egg and steak? Not exactly something that you'd make together, but he didn't mention it. As usual he never went hungry as it filled him up, the milkshake even more so. Dessert was low-fat yoghurt with fresh fruit―he had two bowlfuls; he couldn't get enough of it. He was feeling pleasantly full and happy, surprisingly, exhausted after a day of shopping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Jordre and Jake for this edited chapter :)


	11. Chapter 11

A New Place To Stay

Chapter 11 

Exercises And Trusting Snape And Big Trouble

 

At breakfast the next morning, Harry once again had a bowl of porridge with fruit, whereas Severus had a full English breakfast. Severus no longer expected Harry to sulk at the fact that he had to eat porridge; it seemed the child was just glad to have anything to eat. Severus' views of Harry Potter had changed rapidly in just a week, and he found himself furious not only with himself, but also with everyone around Harry for their failures. He had an Order meeting after lunch, in addition to what he had planned, so they had to start half an hour after breakfast. It wasn't proper for exercise to start straight after eating― it would give one an upset stomach.

"After you are finished, get a pair of jogging trousers or shorts on and a loose t-shirt― you are going to be working out," Severus advised.

"Working out?" Harry asked, his green eyes glazed with confusion.

"For your new diet to work to its full capacity, you need to work out," Severus said in explanation.

"My new diet?" Harry asked, completely bewildered; he knew he was eating differently, but a diet? He wasn't fat, was he? He swallowed thickly at the thought of becoming anything like Vernon Dursley.

Severus seemed to realize what the boy was thinking; he grimaced, remembering the sight of Vernon and Dudley Dursley. He had better reassure the boy; otherwise he would have a Potter who refused to eat in his Manor. He wasn't good at reassurances; with a sigh he explained, "You need to put on weight, Mr. Potter; you are far too skinny for your age. This new diet will help you build up your body mass, put on weight, and get some decent muscle on you," Severus eventually said. The boy already had quite a bit of muscle, no doubt from Quidditch, but with insufficient food, it would fade away, and the skin would become flabby-looking.

Harry blinked, his jaw dropping, unable to believe his ears; his professor was worried enough that he was putting him on a diet? He didn't expect that; he hated the feelings running though him right now, gratitude and something very unidentifiable. No one had ever cared before, and it meant the world to the fourteen-year-old that someone did. He had always wanted someone that cared in his life; a constant, someone to look up to, but he had never had it. He hated that his heart was finding it in his Potions professor; his mind was rebelling against it because he knew Snape hated him― or at least didn't care about anything other than the Boy-Who-Lived. He almost sighed in sadness; he wished more than ever that he had a family, someone to love him.

"Yes, sir," he said automatically when he came back to himself and noticed his teacher waiting for his reply.

"Good," Severus said, satisfied. Once Harry had put on weight, Snape planned on training the boy. He had Voldemort after him, and he agreed with Moody: he needed to be trained. What Dumbledore didn't know couldn't hurt him.

"I also have a book I want you to read and practice before bed," Severus said, once breakfast was cleared off.

Harry looked curious at that and nodded his head in reply. He went up to change as Severus went to his library and ended up with a few books on meditation. That was the first stage of clearing one's mind; afterward, Harry might be able to occlude his thoughts, hopefully. It would come in handy with his temper and if he came face to face with Voldemort; it was no good duelling someone who could read your every move and predict every spell you were going to cast. That was why Voldemort had no problem killing people, even good duellers; Dumbledore was the only one who could give him a run for his money, and that was because he was a good Occlumens and Legilimens.

"Here. These are the books I want you to read; it's important you do so, Mr. Potter," Severus gravely said.

"Yes, sir," Harry said, hiding his confusion; how important could it be to meditate? But he would do as his teacher told him. He didn't want to be on the receiving end of his anger― or wand, come to that. Snape had been great these past few days, and he didn't want it to come to an end. He had realized, after talking to him about the abuse he'd suffered, that Snape probably wouldn't raise a hand to him. He thought about what he said, about knowing the signs and what such kids had been through. It must mean that Snape had been abused too; was that what had turned him on his path to the dark? He had said his father was a Muggle; he still didn't understand why Voldemort accepted him, though. Voldemort was a pureblood fanatic; all his other followers were pureblood. He knew, because of the names he had whispered out, Malfoy among them.

Putting the books at the bottom of his bed to read later he walked out of the room and down the stairs. He was wondering just what kind of "workout" he was going to have to do, and if he even wanted to do it. But then, it wasn't a matter of whether he wanted to or not. He was going to do it; Snape would make sure of it.

"Right, Potter. I want you to run as far as you can around the manor. Whenever you get exhausted, just come back... and take your time. I want to see how far you can go; I'd like to determine how fit you are," said Severus smoothly. He was curious to see how far Harry could go before he collapsed in exhaustion. He wasn't doing this to be mean; the boy did need to bulk up, and considering all the work he had done his first few days, perhaps the run would be longer than even he predicted. There was an exercise room in one of the upstairs rooms in the manor. He hadn't used it, but knew it was there and that the house elves kept it in pristine condition. The boy would be introduced to that room as well; the students wouldn't recognize the boy when he went back, if he had anything to say about it—which he did, that was for sure.

Harry eyed the manor warily; knowing Snape was serious, he nodded his head, then did the usual stretches he would do before running with the Quidditch team. Then he began running, missing the approving nod on his teacher's face at his actions. It was no different from the workouts during Quidditch practices; the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain was lethal in trying to outwit the Slytherins all the time. Once he began, he felt a burst of energy, and he was suddenly very glad to be running. He thought of nothing else, just the sunshine beating down around him as he ran, exhaling bursts of air every few minutes.

He surprised himself by being able to run around the manor four times― then again, it was about the size of two Quidditch pitches. He usually ran around that twice, so he had run six times more than usual, but he wasn't injured or sporting bruises from his uncle's belt or fists. He didn't know there had been an energy potion added to his morning nutrition milkshake. He had his hands on his knees, hunched over, drawing in large gulps of air, trying to get his breathing back under control.

"Breathe; it will pass," Severus said, watching the teenager with a proud glint in his eye. He was proud that Harry had done his best. Usually students would do one lap and feign stitches or exhaustion― even his Quidditch team. Draco always refused to do the runs, telling them he was a Malfoy, and "Malfoys don't run like idiots;" he had done it once when he oversaw the team during his third year, but never again.

Harry nodded, unable to speak as he tried once more to get his breathing under control.

Sometime later they sat in the sitting room, the floo warded so any callers couldn't see into the room. It would all be for naught if someone saw Harry Potter there, now, wouldn't it. Harry had eventually been able to move and breathe properly, and he was now sitting quietly on a chair reading the book on meditation, a look of concentration on his face. It was a look Severus wasn't used to seeing on Harry, or should he say, the Boy-Who-Lived, since Harry, it was apparent, was a whole different boy from the persona he used at school. It made Severus furious for being so blinded by it; right now, though, he preferred the real boy over the persona. This boy reminded him of Lily; this boy he could handle—even if at times he wanted him to be more like James so he could continue hating him. It would be so much better and easier for his own self-preservation just to go on hating the boy. But things had changed; his feelings had changed; his views had been permanently altered, and there was no going back. Considering the fact that he had the three Dursleys down in his dungeon, that was an understatement. That was when he remembered the Order meeting he was about to go to, and the previous one where Black had started in on him.

"Potter, why haven't you replied to your godfather?" Severus asked, sneering the word, not just because it was Black, but because Black wasn't what he would qualify as godfather material.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked defensively, unable to help himself. He looked up from the book, a cautious expression on his face, knowing the hatred between his godfather and his teacher. He had seen the glare Snape had given Sirius; now that he reflected on it, he understood. He remembered the hatred he'd felt for Sirius; he was sure it was nothing on how Snape had looked. "Utter disgust and revulsion" wasn't enough to describe the look on his face. He had been unhinged by the sight of Black, and if his mum had been Snape's best friend, it made sense that he would be furious. Snape had thought Black was the one who had betrayed her, after all.

"He has complained that I'm using you for potions because you haven't replied," Severus said, his lip curling in distaste. He knew he was exaggerating, but he really couldn't bring himself to care at the moment.

"He never asked me a question," Harry said petulantly. Well, technically Sirius had asked a question, even if it had been just to ask why Harry hadn't told him. In all honesty, with everything that had happened, he hadn't even thought about Sirius. That was nothing new; he usually only thought about Sirius when he needed advice, which was seldom. He didn't trust adults and preferred working things out himself.

"Excuse me?" Severus asked, confused by this response.

"He didn't ask me a question; why would I reply to it?" Harry said, shrugging his shoulders; he wasn't too happy with his godfather at the moment anyway, after the way he had moaned at him as if it had been his idea to stay with Snape instead of Sirius. Right now he couldn't help but be glad for it; in all honesty, it wasn't just Sirius he wasn't happy with either, it was his friends as well. He was gladder than ever he was with Snape; at least he could see the newspapers and know what was happening out there—which was nothing, of course; Voldemort was still lying low or in hiding. He was still very angry with his friends for not even keeping in touch with him.

"Because I do not want to put up with Black harassing me every time I go to an Order meeting, Potter," Severus sneered coldly.

Harry wanted nothing more than to screw his face up in distaste; they were supposed to be adults, yet they acted worse than children. He rather valued his life, though, so he decided against saying anything. He had to live with Snape for the rest of the summer, after all; it was a testament to how comfortable he was getting around Snape to actually want to screw his face up. He would never have thought about doing that unless he was in his cupboard at Privet Drive.

"Fine, I'll send him a letter," Harry sighed, barely concealing his exasperation. He didn't want to write to Sirius after the way he had been, but it looked like he was going to have to. He didn't want Snape taking out his bad mood out on him, and he would be in a bad mood if Sirius started on him again. Just looking at Sirius put Snape in a bad mood, come to think of it.

Severus just nodded curtly, his curiosity piqued. What could Black have done to make Potter mad at him? It was obvious Black had said something to upset the boy; he was curious to know what it was. Then again, it wasn't hard for Black to do something stupid even by Potter. Look at what he had done to his best friend: nearly got him put down by the Aurors at the magical beast department in the Ministry. Even Dumbledore wouldn't have been able to stop it― Severus would have made sure of it.

"What exactly did Black do?" Severus asked cautiously, wondering if he was being too forward with the boy yet. Just because he had been bullied into revealing his home life, it didn't mean he had to know everything.

"It's what he didn't do," Harry grumbled, burying his head back in the book, obviously not wanting to talk about it.

"I see," Severus said, frowning behind his own book, curious indeed. "If you want, I shall pass it along at the Order meeting, save your owl a flight," he suggested.

"Okay," Harry said from behind his book.

"If you want, I shall send a letter on to the Weasleys and Granger as well, seeing as they are there," Severus reluctantly added.

"They're with Sirius?" Harry asked, his voice hoarse from behind the book. Severus realized Harry was hurt, and that he had told the boy something he obviously hadn't known. He was suddenly very glad he couldn't see Harry, or those eyes would have made him lose control completely. Half of him regretted telling Harry about the eye surgery, because he saw the boy's eyes before anything now.

Harry's mind had gone into overdrive: his friends hadn't written to him yet, and they were with Sirius. Why were they allowed to be together with his godfather while Harry had to stay here? Talk about not telling him everything― Sirius hadn't even told him that. Fury began bubbling under the surface; this was something he'd expect from Ron, but Hermione? Why hadn't Hermione been in touch? He’d thought he could trust her best, but it was looking less certain now. Why did he always get let down? Why wasn't there someone constant in his life? Damn it, he didn't deserve this. Harry sighed sadly. It was the story of his life: being kept in the dark, unable to trust anyone, not even his best friends.

"They are," said Severus, his voice showing his caution now.

"Well that's nice," Harry replied with bitterness he couldn't even think about hiding.

Severus didn't know what to say. It was becoming glaringly obvious that not only was he being kept somewhere his friends thought he hated, they were also not keeping in touch with him. Black had also done something wrong too; just how alone was Harry feeling right now? If the bitterness was anything to go on, Severus would say "very." He couldn't believe he was actually feeling sorry for him; he hadn't felt sorry for anyone in a very long time.

He watched Harry get up and walk out of the room, looking even more forlorn than ever. Damn it, why did his feelings for Potter have to change now? It was going to be one long summer. Now more than ever, he would feel better if he just didn't care what the teenager felt. He hadn't felt such warring emotions since Lily, when she had been alive. Pinching the bridge of his nose in agitation, he went up to his room, pushing his emotions behind his Occlumency shields as he got dressed for the Order meeting. He put on his robes; he wasn't going to allow any of them to see him casually dressed. It was hard enough not dressing in his robes in front of Harry, but he wasn't about to walk around his home with stiff teaching robes on. He was going to need every ounce of strength he had for this meeting; Dumbledore had a lot to answer for, but he couldn't let the man know he knew. Not yet, anyway; no doubt the Dursleys had already been found to be missing, and Dumbledore wasn't stupid― he would connect the dots.

Ten minutes later he left his room and felt the wards to find out where Harry was. He found that he was back in the sitting room. Swiftly making his way there, he walked in and began speaking. "As you know, the house is warded, as well as the Floo, but I'd prefer it if you were careful in this room just in case," Severus said in his usual blunt voice. "I should be back within a few hours; why don't you go and fly? Remember to stay within the wards," warned the Potions Master, his voice going sterner.

"Yes, sir," Harry said automatically. He wanted to smile for some strange reason ― he felt happy. He loved flying, it was his escape, but how could that make him so happy? Needless to say he was confused.

What Harry didn't get was the fact that he felt happy because someone was setting boundaries, letting him do something other than chores, and just doing what a parent was supposed to do. It was a good thing Harry didn't understand, or it would have scared the living daylights out of him.

Severus nodded, and Harry reluctantly handed over a letter, a very small piece of parchment, for Sirius Black. Snape grimaced at the name on the front of it: Padfoot; he hated those stupid nicknames the Marauders had come up with. Then again, he hated pretty much everything about them, so why not their names too? Sliding the letter into his robes, he walked away feeling a sense of foreboding deep inside him. He had to convince himself that Harry would be all right; there was nowhere safer for him. The feeling didn't leave even as he apparated away. The next sight he saw was numbers eleven and thirteen Grimmauld Place. A few thought words, and the missing building came into view; before long, with a distasteful sigh, he was in the run-down, disgusting place the Blacks had once inhabited.

He made nary a sound as he walked, which meant he didn't wake Black's mother as he went by. Unfortunately for him, Tonks came through the door, banging the troll stand as she went. Severus grimaced as the hag began screeching about "Mudbloods" and "Blood Traitors;" he simply hexed the curtains closed instead of touching them. He didn't want to touch anything Black had been touching. The thought alone was enough to make him sick. He sat down in his usual seat, waiting fpr Dumbledore to make his usual grand entrance through the fireplace in the kitchen. Dumbledore was the only one able to use the Floo because he was the house's Secret-Keeper. Everyone else had to apparate in nearby and go in through the front door.

Instead of making his grand entrance and sitting down, Dumbledore stood and faced the Order, his face grim. There and then Severus knew he had indeed been correct: the Dursleys' disappearance had been noticed. He schooled his face into a frown as if concerned about Dumbledore's oncoming news.

"What's the matter?" Molly asked, her voice concerned and impatient as if she didn't have time for his antics. She floated over the tea and coffee pots and biscuits, and placed them on the table, all the while still staring at Dumbledore. She had done it a million times for her family― it was nothing new.

"Is Harry all right?" Arthur frowned, looking anxiously at Dumbledore.

"Harry is fine, but my reports from Arabella Figg aren't," Dumbledore replied, a frown still etched on his features.

"Meaning what, exactly?" Severus asked cautiously.

"Here; this is what she has written," Dumbledore said, handing the letter over.

Severus' eyes quickly scanned the letter.

Brian: 

The activities are the same. I'm afraid the dogs are still here; nothing can be done about it. They are still reluctant to come near the house, unfortunately; the cats still scare them off. I have some bad news too: I'm afraid my next-door neighbours have gone missing; no holiday planned; they just took off! I'm concerned for their health. Their boss has been to the house, and it confirmed my theory. 

I am unsure if this means anything. I need advice: do I call someone or not? Please get in touch as soon as possible. 

There has been talk of great temperature drops during this summer day, which is odd; I hope it doesn't continue! It is rather abnormal; it happened this afternoon around Wisteria Walk. 

Arabella. D. Figg 

"Why is she speaking in code?" Severus dryly asked. He handed it to Molly after reading it, letting the others have their go at the strange missive.

"There is Death Eater activity around Privet Drive; they do not know I have someone watching the area, and I'd rather it remained that way," Dumbledore replied.

"It doesn't help if you can’t decipher her meanings," Sirius complained, frowning as Molly handed the letter to him. Severus raised an eyebrow at that; he hadn't been aware that Black knew the meaning of the word "decipher."

"She says the Death Eaters are still patrolling the area, but aren't able to penetrate the wards. She's also said the Dursleys are missing; his boss has been to see the house, which means nothing had been planned. The temperature drop... I'm unsure if it has anything to do with magic or just abnormal weather Surrey is experiencing," Dumbledore said, finally sitting down, looking years older and very confused. He wasn't in Surrey, so he couldn't say for sure what exactly that was all about.

"Shall I go and see?" Arthur asked; he had experience with Muggles, so he would be the obvious choice.

"They aren't there; they have fallen below the radar. I've done a few 'find me' and 'point me' charms; nothing came of them," Dumbledore said gravely.

"Death Eaters cannot have them, or I would have been called, and they would no longer be patrolling the area," Severus pointed out matter-of-factly.

"Unless Death Eaters acting on their own have had some sport and killed them, unaware of who they are. Or a Death Eater acting on his own killed them, thinking it would get him past the wards," Moody said bluntly. He was always the suspicious one; then again, that could be blamed on the fact that he had been through two wars.

"He does have a point," Severus sighed grudgingly.

"Can you ask around and see what you can find out, Severus?" Dumbledore asked hopefully.

"I cannot bring it up without their getting suspicious, but I will keep my ears and eyes open," Severus replied; he wasn't about to get himself killed for Muggles... or at least that was the impression Dumbledore needed to get.

"If they were dead, wouldn't the Death Eaters be able to get past the wards?" Sirius asked; as of yet he hadn't even looked at Severus Snape.

"I do not know, blood wards are very rare, if completely non-existent; you won't find a paragraph about them, let alone a book," Dumbledore said quietly. "I looked for many years, but nothing came up."

"Then how do you know the wards at Privet Drive work?" Sirius asked, looking mutinously at the table.

"Other than the fact that they protected Harry from Quirrell in his first year, they are currently keeping the Death Eaters from entering within a one-mile radius of number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging," Dumbledore replied without sarcasm.

Severus almost lost control with Dumbledore so casually talking about Quirrell and Harry's fight. For some reason, he couldn't get what Harry had told him out of his mind― the urge to hand the stone over, but not doing it. He didn't know how the eleven-year-old had managed, after hearing what his heart's desire was. How could an eleven-year-old be strong enough to say no? Snape had joined Voldemort at sixteen, with just the promise that Voldemort would take care of Tobias Snape. He had killed Tobias, but his mother had only lived two years afterward. She had succumbed to cancer, which he hadn't even been aware she'd had. She had kept it secret until the end; she had died after hearing that her son had passed his Potions Mastery. The last thing she had ever said was that she was proud of him. She had never learned his secret: that he had joined the Death Eaters and was the one responsible for her husband's—his father's— death. She hadn't seen him much at all; with his duties as a Death Eater and brewing for his Potions Mastery, he hadn't had much sleep at all. It was something he regretted. His mother had sometimes been as bad as his father; she had caused some of the arguments and beatings. However, she had also protected him as much as she could, apart from doing the proper thing ― getting them both the hell out of there.

"Sirius told me what happened at the last Order meeting, and I think Moody was right," said Remus, speaking for the first time.

Moody looked up at Remus when his name was mentioned, but he said nothing. His real eye shot up and back down again. He had already tried to convince his old friend, but nothing he said had budged him. Dumbledore was determined he wasn't going to train Harry, and he wasn't going to be moved.

"About what?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes twinkling as usual; he knew what it was about, but was just pleading ignorant. He would rather avoid another argument about Harry getting training. He had been arguing with Alastor about it all week; the Auror wasn't happy about his decision.

"Harry needs to be trained; he's a very good student," Remus said patiently.

Severus snorted; half of him was doing it because it was expected of him, half because what Remus was saying was an understatement when he thought about the work Harry had presented him with this summer.

Remus narrowed his eyes. "How many people here can produce a fully fledged Patronus?" he asked, still glaring at Severus. Severus was rather confused as to where Lupin was going with this, and also curious.

"Three," Moody eventually grunted.

"What age where you when you produced it?" Remus asked, his smirk feral.

"Nineteen, during Auror training," Moody frowned, his scarred face looking even worse than usual.

"Twenty-three," Albus eventually admitted, when he saw the others were staring at him.

Then everyone's eyes moved to Remus, thinking he was the third person. "I cannot produce a fully fledged Patronus," he admitted at the curious looks he was receiving.

Only Moody was looking at Snape; the rest followed him a few seconds later.

"Seventeen," Severus sneered, a proud smirk tugging at his lips.

"Where are you going with this, Remus?" Sirius frowned, confused; even he didn't know about Harry.

"It took Harry eleven lessons to produce a fully fledged Patronus at the age of thirteen," Remus proudly said, a wolfish grin on his face.

"You're joking," Shacklebolt choked out, his jaw unhinged. He couldn't produce one, and he was an older Wizard, and a powerful one at that. The fact that a thirteen-year-old boy had managed it made him feel very insignificant indeed.

Severus had to keep the fact that he was impressed off his face; he was indeed very proud of Lily's son. Perhaps it wouldn't be a chore to teach Harry everything he would need to learn to survive. Most adult wizards and witches couldn't perform it; the fact that a thirteen-year-old boy could was telling.

"What is it?" Sirius asked curiously.

"A stag," Remus answered, a small wistful smile on his face in remembrance.

Severus forced himself to snort; of course Harry's Patronus was a stag, as if it would be anything but. He was surprised, though. Lily had saved his life as a child; you would think it would be something to resemble her. A doe like Snape's own, but no. He wondered silently why it had chosen to form a stag instead. It wasn't as if it had been the boy's choice, and he knew the child had never seen his father's animagus form, so he couldn't blame that.

"Go, Harry!" Sirius crowed, looking deeply happy. He didn't appreciate the awesome piece of magic Harry had performed at the age of thirteen. He had been unconscious when the Patronus had been cast and hadn't had any idea who had cast it or what it was.

"Why was he learning to cast a Patronus?" Tonks frowned, her hair red today.

"The Dementors had a very draining effect on him," Remus explained.

"Meaning what, exactly?" Shacklebolt asked, even though he had a good idea.

"He heard James' and Lily's deaths," Remus told him, choking on their names slightly; even after all those years it hadn't gotten any easier. His pack was broken: one betrayed, two dead and one still a kid in a man's body.

Severus paled drastically, not even having to fake that; Sirius looked stunned, and Severus was beginning to realize Harry wasn't as close to the mutt as he'd previously thought. Black didn't know anything about Harry; it seemed Lupin knew more than he did. Snape shook off his thoughts. He couldn't keep this up; it was getting utterly ridiculous. He had dealt with many abused students; why was Harry getting under his skin, under his cold and indifferent masks, and into his heart? He couldn't allow it; he was furious with himself for letting it happen.

The entire Order was silent, even Mundungus Fletcher ―he had a very appropriate name: 'dung' ―he smelt of it all the time. The silence was irritating Severus, because the quieter it was, the more he thought, and he didn't want to think. He had to wash his thoughts of Harry bloody Potter before it got him killed. He had allowed himself to get emotionally attached and that wasn't a good thing for a spy. With the boy so much like Lily, even if it was regretfully beaten into him, it made him all the weaker. Anything that reminded him of Lily made him feel overly emotional. She had been the only positive influence in his life other than his mother; he had loved her and only her― there had been no one else in his life. He had to stay away from the manor, stop caring and damn it, stop thinking about him all the time.

"Is the meeting finished?" Severus asked abruptly.

"Yes, Severus, it is," Dumbledore sighed sadly.

"Good," Severus said getting up; he remembered the letter at the last second. Taking it out of his pocket he threw it at Black before abruptly leaving the dreary, disgusting place they called the Order Headquarters.

He apparated back to the manor, and the sight in front of him made him weak in the knees. Two Dementors stood over the prone form of Harry Potter, sucking out his soul, his broom snapped in half between his legs; he had obviously plummeted from his broom. His apparation had brought the attention of the other Dementor and quickly coldness began seeping into Severus. Suddenly he was no longer staring at Harry Potter in horror, but trapped in his own worst memories.

"I overheard a prophecy, My Lord," Severus said, not even paying attention to Lucius Malfoy shaking at the Dark Lord's feet after being put under the Cruciatus Curse for failing in his mission. He had no Occlumency shields, and his Lord would be able to read it anyway, but he wanted to please HIM. 

"Tell me," The Dark Lord hissed eagerly. 

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies," Severus said in supreme satisfaction. 

"That is it?" The Dark Lord demanded furiously. 

"I'm sorry, My Lord, I was thrown out," Severus said bowing low. 

"Leave! Find another way to get a job or the next time I won't be so lenient," Voldemort snarled. 

Pops indicated everyone had left one Lord Voldemort to think about the contents of the Prophecy he had just learned. 

"The Prophecy is about either the Potter boy or the Longbottom boy; both of them shall die before they are old enough to become a thorn in my side," Voldemort hissed.

Severus paled drastically under his Death Eater mask, a sinking feeling making its way down into his gut. All he could think about was Lily. He had to keep her safe, but his Lord had promised… promised not to hurt her. He knew the Dark Lord didn't always keep his promises, though, and that scared him.

"May I have the pleasure of killing the Potters, My Lord?" Bellatrix gleefully requested

"I shall kill both families myself," Voldemort hissed, his snake-like eyes narrowed in anger.

Right after that Death Eater meeting he had left to hunt down Albus Dumbledore. Beg him to keep Lily safe, out of harm's way, not caring about himself or the fact that he would end up in Azkaban.

"I'm Sorry Severus... Sirius Black betrayed them," Dumbledore sighed as he stood in front of Snape in his office. 

"No," whispered Severus closing his eyes, hoping it was a bad dream. "You swore you would protect her!" He got angry now instead of upset. 

"Severus, I'm sorry," Dumbledore said looking old and tired. 

"Save it for someone who cares!" Severus snarled furiously. Dumbledore had failed him, and he didn't care what he said; not only had the old wizard failed him, but he'd failed Lily too. 

"Little Harry survived," Dumbledore offered after a few seconds of silence. "He has Lily's eyes." 

Severus fell to his knees, feeling himself sinking into the abyss as blackness continued to swallow him whole. He hated Dementors with a vengeance; they brought back his terrible deeds with startling clarity, as if he didn't think about them enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited by Jordre and Jake :) thank you!


	12. Chapter 12

A New Place To Stay   
Chapter 12   
Will They Survive Or Not? 

 

Severus groaned as the fear circled around him, clinging to him like smog; he couldn't move. He could feel all shreds of consciousness leaving his body, but he fought it with all his strength. He had been placed under the Cruciatus curse more times than he could remember; he wasn't going to allow the Dementors to win. He had the willpower. The grounds of Prince Manor looked awful; icicles hung everywhere, every flower and potion ingredient dead and utterly withered. Everything was frozen; it was as if time was standing still. It wasn't just them and the grounds affected; the Manor windows had steamed up, and icicles hung from the roof. That itself would have been a nice sight to see if it was Christmas, but everything looked so bleak and unhopeful it wasn't nice to see at all.

Severus' eyes began closing; with his last shred of consciousness, he imagined Lily's face, sad and worn that he had failed in his vow. If he had thought the Dementors were bad, it was nothing compared to the all-encompassing panic, fear, and pain he felt at letting Lily down. That was what gave him the courage; raising his cold-numb hand, he rasped out the two words that would drive the Dementors away, the only two words that could save them now, if he wasn't already too late. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Severus invoked with all that he had.

It was like someone had turned the sun back on; heat began immediately settling into him, warming up his frozen bones. One Dementor fled as the doe charged with only one purpose ― to get rid of them. It took out the first one and charged right after the second one, and before long the Dementors screeched and fled high up into the sky, away from the manor. The beautiful white doe bowed to the wizard who had called it before it faded into nothingness, having done what it had been summoned to do.

Severus was breathing heavily, still weak in the knees; he all but crawled over the grounds to get to Harry's side, praying with every inch he managed that Harry was all right, that he hadn't been too late. In any other situation, Severus would have cursed everything in sight that he was so weak, but he was too worried for that; Harry still hadn't moved, and he was beginning to fear the worst.

The damnedest thing of all was, he wasn't worried about Harry because he was Lily's son, or because of the vow, or even because Harry could defeat Voldemort when it was predicted no one else could. No, he was worried about the child for himself; everything he had been thinking just earlier was banished from his mind. He couldn't even begin to think about distancing himself from the boy, or giving him his usual treatment― cool and aloof. It was dangerous for a spy to get close to anyone, never mind Harry Potter, of all people. He might as well wear a target on his back, but he was smart; he was a Slytherin, if anyone could do it, he could. Someone needed to be here for Harry; it was becoming glaringly obvious that Sirius Black wasn't that someone. It was just a question of whether Harry would accept him or not.

Finally, ten minutes later, his black robes green and brown from dragging himself along in the grass and mud―the house-elves must have watered everything just before the Dementors came―he checked Harry for a pulse. At least he was breathing, but that didn't make everything all right. He was afraid to move him. Closing his eyes, he admitted defeat; he needed help desperately. He quickly cast a Patronus message and sent it off as he drank a pepper-up potion and a cheering potion, which would work like chocolate and offset the effects of the Dementors.

-0-

"Before you all go, I need some help guarding the Hall of Prophecies. I fear Voldemort will eventually go after it," Dumbledore said, suddenly remembering something else he had mentioned.

"What do you mean? The bloody prophecy is just lying around waiting for him?" Sirius asked, wide-eyed. He didn't know it word for word, but Lily and James had passed on to him what Dumbledore had told them: that it implied that their son would bring the downfall of Voldemort, and that the evil bastard was going after newborn children now. He knew Harry would be in even more danger if Voldemort got his hands on the prophecy; it could be called intervention. He clutched the letter Harry had no doubt given Snape for him, looking extremely pissed.

"No one other than the ones they're created for can touch them; you know that's the way it's always been. There are over a thousand orbs lying there unfulfilled or still waiting for their time to come," Dumbledore patiently explained.

"Then get Harry to bloody pick it up and get it destroyed before Voldemort gets his hands on it!" Sirius argued angrily.

"I do not want Harry to be even aware of the prophecy," Dumbledore said solemnly, his eyes regarding Sirius gravely.

Sirius just shook his head, sick to his back teeth of Dumbledore's demands: keeping him locked up, Harry away from him... now he was risking his godson's life just because he didn't want Harry aware of the bloody damn prophecy. As usual, though, he kept quiet and let Dumbledore direct his life, acting more like Remus than ever. It was a good job Severus wasn't there, or he wouldn't have been able to hold back the sarcastic comments.

"Then draw up a chart; we'll all take turns," Moody grunted, knowing better than to argue with Albus. The old coot always got his way; he thought he knew best, and one day it was going to bite him in the arse. Now he had to guard a corridor because Albus wanted Harry to remain a child longer. Moody knew the boy couldn't possibly be a kid anymore; he had seen far too much in his four years in the wizarding world. From what he had heard over the years, and from Albus himself, he knew it to be true; now he had just seen Voldemort brought back. If he wasn't so composed, he would have shuddered. Potter had come close to thinking that he, Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody, had betrayed the light side. Crouch Jr. had almost killed the boy, and it would have meant the end of the light. He still hadn't forgiven Dumbledore for not realizing that hadn't been Moody, but they were at war, so needs must. He had realized when it mattered; he wouldn't have let Potter out of Dumbledore's sight, and Albus was, at the end of the day, the only Wizard Voldemort feared. He was still utterly embarrassed about being caught off-guard, and by a Death Eater, no less.

The Order began leaving; they had jobs and such, so they couldn't stay around all day. Dumbledore gestured for Remus to stay, and everyone else left, leaving just three people in Grimmauld Place.

"How is your mission going?" Dumbledore asked, looking at Remus intently.

"They're still adamant about remaining neutral; I can't blame them, really," Remus said sadly, his amber eyes glowing softly.

"Even after you promised them Wolfsbane Potion?" Dumbledore asked in surprise.

"You know they hate the Ministry and all the rules; they refuse to side with Voldemort and create more like themselves." Remus sighed. Werewolves were pack animals; most of the people he had gone to see didn't interact with the human world. They stayed with their own packs and hunted smaller animals, eating what they could get. They didn't come near people, but stayed in secluded areas, especially in the days leading up to the full moon. The pack he had gone to see had three children, one of them Harry's age, and it hurt him to see so many werewolves. Remus knew he had been very privileged to get into Hogwarts and get a decent education. Unfortunately it mattered little, as people wouldn't hire him because he was a werewolf. He could hold down a job in the Muggle world, but not for any more than five months, when the employees got sick of his constant tiredness and sickness.

"Well at least so far none plan on joining Voldemort," Dumbledore sighed wearily; he had hoped to have them on board― they would be extremely handy, but it seemed it wasn't to be.

"I know," Remus agreed; werewolves had a bad enough reputation as it was, and if they did join the war, they would all be exterminated, hunted down and killed until none remained. While it was nice to think that no one would ever be infected again, he'd rather not be killed, thank you very much.

Sirius jumped in fright as a wisp of white shot through the door; he had been staring rather intently at the floor when he saw it. He saw immediately that it was from Snape; he was the only one with a doe for a Patronus. He knew what it represented, and he loathed seeing it. The thought of Snivellus and Lily was enough to make him lose his latest meal. What could possibly be worse? Oh yeah, Harry was with him instead of here.

"Dementors have attacked Harry; you have to get Poppy and Floo to my Manor. I will open the Floo gates for you," was all the doe said before it disappeared in a puff of smoke.

"Well, at least Harry's all right, otherwise Severus wouldn't have asked for Poppy," Dumbledore quickly said, before either Remus or Sirius could get in over their heads.

"I'm coming with you; then I'll brief Sirius," Remus said, his amber eyes narrowed in worry and determination.

"Then let's call Poppy, shall we?" Dumbledore said, Floo'ing the rooms above the hospital wing, hoping she was there. She was always away from Hogwarts, visiting family and friends, or sometimes she was at St. Mungo's. Thankfully she was still in Hogwarts' hospital wing; Dumbledore quickly passed on the message. Poppy nodded, hurriedly grabbing her potions bag, her wand, and her diagnostic equipment before Floo'ing to Grimmauld Place. When she arrived, the three of them stepped into the Floo and went to Prince Manor, thankfully having no problem getting there. Once inside, Dumbledore performed the Find Me spell, and then they were running as if the hounds of hell were on their heels. They became even more worried, seeing Severus just sitting there on the grass. None of them had seen such a sight in all the time they had known him. He was always standing up tall and proud, never allowing people to see him down. To Remus it might seem like a familiar sight, but it wasn't to Poppy or Albus. Then again, Poppy had fixed him up after every single Death Eater meeting, so maybe not.

"Severus, what happened?" Dumbledore demanded, quickly getting on his own hands and knees, breathing heavily as he looked Harry over, a frown marring his wrinkled face. His usual twinkle was nowhere to be seen.

Poppy pushed Dumbledore's hands away, as well as Severus, who had his hand on Harry's chest the entire time, just to reassure himself the boy was still there, or at the very least still breathing. That was enough for now, despite the fact that his heart was beating too fast for comfort. He never got scared, not even at the Death Eater meetings.

"He's broken his right leg in three places; his shoulder is dislocated, and he's broken three of his ribs. He must have fallen down at an angle, thankfully; otherwise the fall would have broken his back," Poppy said, running her diagnostic wand over his body, a frown marring her own features.

"Enervate," Dumbledore cast towards Harry, waking him up.

"What are you doing, Albus?!" Poppy hissed, drawing her own wand, looking furiously at the Headmaster.

"We must ensure he is there, Poppy," Dumbledore said, his voice grave.

"He's in pain!" she snapped right back, disbelief written across her face.

"We need to know," Dumbledore insisted, watching Harry moan as he became more and more aware. Poppy shook her head, furious at Dumbledore's interference; she took out a numbing potion and administered it. She couldn't give him a pain reliever; Skele-Gro and pain relievers did not mix well together... as Harry had learned in his second year, when he'd had to have his arm bones re-grown. She'd had to leave him to cope by himself, without the aid of pain relief. Thankfully, it would only take around five hours this time, instead of an entire night. She, unlike that idiot Lockhart, wouldn't remove all his bones, just the broken ones.

Severus was still shivering slightly, but other than that he had most of his strength back. He wasn't as surprised as he would have been a week ago at Dumbledore's rash actions. Enervating someone like that, when that person was in that amount of pain, could send him into a coma. Even though a small part of Snape wanted answers too, he didn't want them enough to cause Harry to go into a permanent coma. He was also greatly relieved Poppy had done her diagnostic charm only for today, rather than for the past week or for his full history. Goodness knew what she would have thought; his dislike for all things Potter was well known― he rather hoped Poppy wouldn't think the worst of him.

His eyes were watching Harry intently; unaware of the hazel, blue, and amber eyes that were doing just the same. He noticed that Harry wasn't even crying out; the others were all frowning at that, but Severus, who had learned so much over the past week, had expected him to remain silent. He could almost feel Potter assessing his surroundings, wondering if he would be in danger if he opened his eyes. Severus knew the youth was still there, that the Dementors hadn't succeeded in stealing his soul; otherwise he wouldn't have been that tense, that slow in opening his eyes.

Harry's dull green eyes opened, a grimace distorting his face; despite the numbing potion, he could still feel the underlying pain. He groaned before closing his eyes again, wanting nothing more than to black out again. He well and truly hated Dementors now, and he knew without a doubt who'd saved him: the same person who had been saving his life since he'd entered the Wizarding world, and he wasn't sure how to feel about it now. He didn't like admitting it, but he was beginning to respect Snape― he couldn't use the word "like" in regards to the man.

"Do you know who you are?" Remus asked, wide-eyed worry shining through.

"Unfortunately," the fourteen-year-old quietly murmured.

Severus felt like smirking, but held it in; it was times like this that made him realize the boy truly was meant for Slytherin. Sarcasm came second nature to them; Gryffindors and Huffelpuffs took it into their hearts to get insulted by it. He saw Lupin was frowning, but Dumbledore had his twinkle back. The smirk vanished, but a growl wanted to break free―how could he have missed the fact that Dumbledore only cared about Harry as a weapon to defeat Voldemort? Lily would probably be rolling in her grave; she'd thought very highly of Dumbledore, and always had. He had been the sort of grandfatherly figure she had always wanted― her grandparents, both sets, had died before she'd been born.

"Severus, are you okay?" Poppy asked, starting to use the diagnostic spell on him.

"I'm fine; I've already taken some potions―once I've had a hot chocolate, all will be fine," Severus sharply replied.

"No need to take that tone with me, young man," Madame Pomfrey reprimanded him softly, her hazel eyes regarding Severus with worry. He was never that crabby unless he was in pain or worried about something. He didn't think much of Harry, so she was assuming he was in pain; she didn't realize she was wrong in that regard.

"Just get him into the house and sort him," Severus retorted peevishly. He got up on shaky legs, but didn't allow any of them to see any weaknesses. He just remained still until he had the strength to walk. As he went with them, he spoke softly, just one word: "Rose."

"Yes, Master Snape?" the house-elf asked, blinking wide-eyed at everyone, wondering what on earth had happened. She knew better than to ask. She knew her master hated bowing and scraping, hated a hundred words when only a few would do, and hated impertinence; it would be indeed impertinent of her to ask a question― she was only a house-elf.

"Get the living room cleared for a sick child, and have coffee and hot chocolate ready for us when we come in," Severus directed, his voice lacking the sternness he had when speaking to others, but nobody could accuse him of talking softly or nicely, either, for that matter.

"Yes, sir," Rose said, popping away immediately. This house-elf did not have a pillowcase as clothing, but an actual black robe to fit her, with "PM" embroidered on it. It didn't surprise any of the others that the elf was wearing black per se, but it did surprise them that she was clearly free but continued to serve the surly man.

Poppy followed Severus, who was now leading the group into his home; it was the first time Poppy and Remus had seen the place. Dumbledore had been through it once, but hadn't seen it from the outside; it was pretty impressive indeed. Then again, those old manors always were; a lot of money was spent in making them that way. The Princes had been much like the Malfoys in terms of their prideful line and name; thankfully they hadn't been dark. It had shamed them when their only daughter Eileen had disappeared and married a Muggle; after that, no wizard wanted a "sullied" witch, as it was put. Not that Eileen had cared; she'd had Severus and settled down into a very bumpy marriage. The clue was in the word "bumpy." She had given up her heritage and name just to avoid an arranged marriage, but obviously she hadn't regretted it. Severus had been very lucky that his grandparents hadn't wanted their line to vanish completely, or their assets to go to the government... which meant the Ministry of Magic.

Severus opened the door to the living room, which was situated next door to the sitting room, ironically enough. The only difference between the two was that the living room was cosy and didn't have a fireplace connected to the Floo. Poppy quickly floated in Harry, who had remained silent, and that was worrying Poppy greatly. She lowered him as slowly as humanly possible down onto the couch, before she began working, removing the bones and getting him to swallow the Skele-Gro potion. Afterwards she took his clothes off his top half as slowly as possible; being careful of his injuries. Severus chimed in and helped her― being stronger than she was had its advantages. Thankfully the child had put some weight on and didn't look like a starving waif anymore. Not that he was in any way, shape, or form at a good weight for his age, or even for his height, and that had been stunted. Once the clothes were off, Poppy used a spell that wrapped bandages around his torso, tightly, but with enough give that he could still breathe. It was only temporary, until they could give him the rib-restoring potion; again, that couldn't be used with Skele-Gro― not much could. Severus was deeply saddened, and a little bit proud, that Harry remained silent, saddened because it showed just how badly he'd been treated that this was nothing—he had been though worse—but proud because he was bearing up, knowing that moaning and groaning wouldn't help, but would just make his ribs worse.

He tried to get himself to shake those thoughts off now that Harry was fine—he was on the mend and didn't need his Potions Master worried about him— but he failed miserably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited by Jake and Jordre :) thank you!


	13. Chapter 13

A New Place To Stay  
Chapter 13   
Concern and Worries

Severus couldn't help but be glad that he had already given the potion to Harry to remove the scars on his back. As he helped prop him up and watched Poppy use a spell to wrap bandages around the child's torso, he knew the boy wouldn't want others knowing. He knew that much from his own personal experience. Who would have thought he and Harry Potter would ever have anything in common, or as in common as that? They would always have something in common: Lily, their love for the vivacious red-headed woman. It was unfortunate that Harry didn't remember his mother, for she truly would have been the best mother one could wish for: protective, loving, smart, beautiful... everything a fourteen-year-old could wish for in a mother. Then again, Harry wouldn't have done half the things he had if his mother had been around― he wouldn't have dared. While Lily wouldn't have resorted to corporal punishment, she would have pitched a fit that would have made him worry, no doubt about it. Lily had been a fiery hellcat and a staunch defender of anyone she loved.

"How do you feel now, Harry?" Poppy asked, once Harry was resting back on the pillows.

She received no answer from the brown-haired youth; the only way she could tell he was alive was the loud shuddering breaths he was taking.

"Do you think you could eat some chocolate?" Severus demanded in his usual no-nonsense voice.

Harry was tempted not to answer; he was in agony despite the numbing charm. He hadn't felt this sore since before his third year. Even at that, he'd had enough time to heal before going back to Hogwarts and had been able to enjoy the welcoming feast, unlike the two previous years. He didn't want to speak; it hurt as if an invisible fire was spreading throughout his chest, invading his lungs. He nodded very slowly, not wanting to cause himself any more pain than he was currently in.

"Open," Severus simply said, watching him. He was very slow at complying― it didn't surprise Severus; the boy was clearly in agony. He had no doubt the emotional pain was probably worse, considering what he had learned just that afternoon. He shuddered inwardly at the thought of hearing Lily dying over and over again. Harry didn't deserve that, he didn't deserve a lot of things that had happened to him. He vowed again that he would pay more attention to the youth and would ensure no burden was unnecessarily placed on his shoulders. Severus put the chocolate into Harry's open mouth and used a spell to make sure it melted; almost immediately he saw the trembling lessen.

"Why the hell did the Dementors come after Harry?" Remus demanded, unable to keep silent any longer.

Poppy continued fussing over Harry; Severus turned to the conversation, grabbing a big black mug of hot chocolate, not even bothering about the small marshmallows that floated in it. He didn't eat things like that, but always had them on hand just in case.

Dumbledore sat himself down comfortably in one of Severus' chairs; Severus didn't like that. Remus followed Dumbledore's lead, and Severus frowned angrily― he didn't like people making themselves at home in his house. He hadn't been a good host, though, he had to admit; then again, it probably had something to do with the fact he had just about been delivered a fate worse than death: the Dementors' kiss.

"That's a good question. Dementors do not leave Azkaban, and the Dementors are most definitely still in the control of the Ministry. Voldemort hasn't even tried to gain their alliance; it's obviously still too soon. The only way I can think of, is if someone had directly told them to kiss him," Dumbledore reluctantly said, fury bubbling inside of him. The Ministry was going too far! Didn't they realize what they were doing? Without Harry Potter, the world was doomed; he was, after all, prophesied to defeat Voldemort.

"The Ministry? Fudge? Fudge sent them after him? But why?" Remus gasped in dismay.

Despite his state Harry, was listening to everything that was being said, practising meditation techniques― not that he realized it was a meditation technique. It's what he'd used to do back at Privet Drive when he was a young boy. It had helped him to stop thinking about the pain; the pain became like a white buzz in the background. He was in-between consciousness and unconsciousness, listening intently.

"Haven't you been reading the paper?" Severus snarled, rolling his eyes in irritation. Why did Lupin constantly ask stupid questions? He was furious himself, not about the fact they had almost killed Harry, but because they had actually sent Dementors after a fourteen-year-old boy.

Harry's heart clenched painfully; he knew deep down Snape was angry on his behalf. He had thought Snape would enjoy it, reading about all the lies they printed. He never stopped reading the Prophet, so it wasn't an unfair assumption. He squashed the gratitude down; he couldn't get attached to Snape. Snape didn't like him; he was tolerating him because of Dumbledore... that was it. The hope, though, refused to go away and leave him in peace, as he went on listening to everything being said.

"Severus is correct; the Ministry is afraid, and Fudge is going to use any means to keep Harry quiet," Dumbledore admitted sadly.

"Why do I get the feeling that's the only thing I know about?" Severus asked, glancing at Dumbledore. He found it extremely hard to keep the glare off his face; he wanted nothing more than to snarl furiously at the old fool. He couldn't let Dumbledore find out; he would go down to the dungeon and kill the Dursleys in rat form before he allowed that.

"He is interfering at Hogwarts; he has hired a Defence teacher: Dolores Umbridge," Dumbledore grimly replied.

Remus gasped in shock, unable to believe his ears― that vicious cow? She was the reason werewolves were more alienated than ever. She was the nastiest piece of work Remus had ever encountered. He wouldn't be surprised if she had joined the Death Eaters, or was thinking of joining; she was truly awful, and Fudge wanted her to teach children? He was mad! Utterly barmy!

"Is he mad?" Remus practically shrieked, causing Harry to jar his injuries and hiss in pain. He hadn't been able to help himself; hearing a loud voice and being in pain didn't help matters. He had tried to curl in on himself, to protect himself as much as possible, only to end up in agony anyway. He felt a strong calloused hand comfortingly patting his shoulder a few times before it stopped and stayed still, giving him the silent comfort he needed. He wasn't stupid; he knew who it was. Remus' voice had been too far away for it to be him; Dumbledore's hands were, for the lack of better words, chubbier than that, and Poppy's were thin and bony like a woman's were. This hand was long, callused, and thin, and smelled of potion ingredients.

Severus hadn't been able to help himself; he'd had to try to comfort the youth; it was going to be a long day for him. Perhaps the boy should be grateful that they were wizards and could heal more quickly. Then again, if they were Muggles, he wouldn't have been in danger from Dementors... or Voldemort, come to that. Thankfully Dumbledore's attention was fixed on Lupin; eventually he had to draw back to avoid his visitors gawping at him like idiots. They had more important things to deal with.

"He's afraid," Dumbledore corrected sadly. "They do not want Voldemort to be back, and they are going to use any means necessary to keep up the pretence that he has not returned."

"That includes murder," Severus sneered, disgust clear as day on his face.

"Unfortunately. I wonder, though, why Harry didn't use magic," Dumbledore said, a frown marring his features.

Severus was watching Dumbledore and noticed he looked a little put out. Had he wanted the boy to be expelled? Or have a spectacle in the Ministry using Potter as a central figure? He didn't think Dumbledore would risk Harry by sending the Dementors, not that he had the power to do so. Only Fudge and a few others could do something like that; it made him cold all over when he thought about it. Not only was Harry in danger from Voldemort, but the Ministry as well; it was a sorry state of affairs. It was going to be a long year; he would have to explain the dire situation to the boy before he went back to Hogwarts.

"Why would he need to? He was supposed to be safe here," Remus retorted smartly, saving Severus from answering, because a cold, slimy feeling had sunk into his bones when the question had finally sunk in. Harry had been without a wand. Nobody knew about the magical concealing spells embedded in Prince Manor's wards; magic could be performed on the grounds without anyone knowing. He had left the child without any protection whatsoever; the thought of what could have happened if he hadn't left the Order meeting when he did, left him cold deep in his heart. He had taken the youth's wand― not even his own father had done such a thing to him.

"Why didn't the wards keep them out?" Poppy asked, speaking for the first time. She still wasn't happy with Dumbledore and would make sure the old fool knew it. As soon as they got back to Hogwarts, she was going to make sure he never interfered with her work again, or she would be leaving. It was an idle threat, but Dumbledore didn't know that; she wasn't about to abandon the children at Hogwarts, not in these dark times.

"Wards cannot keep Dementors at bay; they can get anywhere they need to. You didn’t think I took down the wards protecting Hogwarts from dark creatures, did you?" Dumbledore answered, looking half amused, half serious.

"I see," Poppy said, swallowing sharply; she remembered the times when Harry had been in her hospital wing in third year because of those disgusting creatures.

"Apart from the Fidelius charm; otherwise they would have gotten to Sirius by now," Remus pointed out, his amber eyes solemn.

"How far will Fudge and Umbridge go?" Severus asked gravely.

"As far as it takes," Dumbledore replied, his twinkle missing. He didn't like the thought of Hogwarts being invaded by Ministry workers better than anyone else did.

"I best go to Sirius, he's bound to be deranged by now," Remus said, suddenly remembering his old friend. It was bad enough being cooped up in Grimmauld Place, but his worry for his godson might push him over the edge.

"I must get back to Hogwarts too; I'm afraid I've left Minerva filling in temporarily, and she already has much to do with her own duties," Dumbledore said. Neither man so much as said goodbye to the boy on the couch. Severus frowned at that; they said they cared about him, yet their actions said otherwise. Finding out he was fine, then buggering off, wasn't exactly a thing one did when one cared. Severus wouldn't have done that, not in a million years, neither to Harry nor Draco. He hadn't liked Harry until a week ago either, so without more ado he scowled at their backs.

"I shan't get in your way, Severus, but if you would allow it, I shall leave a list of potions Harry will need," Poppy said quietly. She had seen Severus' earlier actions, and they had surprised her deeply. He had comforted Harry, something she would never have suspected Severus would do even under threat of the Cruciatus curse. She was very fond of Harry; he was different with her in the hospital wing than when other people were there. He was quieter, less boisterous; he was also very politely spoken, even while trying to talk her into letting him out early.

"Of course, Poppy, but you do remember I almost passed in a mastery with Mediwizardry?" Severus dryly reminded the Medi-witch.

"Of course, Severus, but that was a long time ago," Poppy responded smartly. "You stuck to your potions and don't practice at Mediwizardry; you’re probably a little rusty."

"Very well," Severus yielded, deciding to let her have her way. It was probably for the best; it was true that he wasn't exactly qualified. "But I will supply the potions; they are fresher than yours."

Poppy nodded and began scribbling notes on a piece of parchment; she had expected no less from a Potions Master.

"He will be able to have a pain reliever in exactly seven hours; the Skele-Gro will have made its way through his bloodstream by then. I wish they would make a pain reliever that worked with it; it's horrible watching children suffering through it. Harry has personal experience with it already; he had to regrow every single bone in his arm in second-year because of that fool Lockhart," Poppy complained, showing her disgust at the fraud. She had been one of the many people disgusted by him; Minerva and the male teachers had been, as well. The rest of the women had been enamoured of the revolting fake, and it had given Severus the heaves.

"You left him alone all night?" Severus asked, surprised; Poppy had never left his side when he had been a patient in her hospital wing.

"I couldn't remain awake. I was utterly exhausted and ill, Severus, but not that it mattered as I had to get up anyway. It was the night Colin Creevey was petrified trying to come in and see Harry," Poppy said in explanation.

"Ah, I see," Severus said smoothly.

"Is it okay if I Floo-call you later, Severus? I want to know he's going to be all right," Poppy requested, staring at Harry worriedly.

"Of course," Severus said. He had a feeling she would be the only one... then again, neither Black nor Lupin knew his Floo address. Very few did; only Dumbledore, the Malfoys, Poppy, and, of course, Minerva. He wondered silently if they would have called if they had known it; by the way Lupin and Dumbledore had acted just ten minutes ago, he had his doubts.

"Take care, Severus; I'll see how you are later. Harry, just rest and get well again," Poppy said softly, brushing back his locks before disappearing the same way Dumbledore and Lupin had, leaving the living room and going through to the sitting room, using the Floo, and disappearing in the network.

"Well, Potter, it looks like it's just you and me again," Severus said simply. "Can I get you anything? Are you still cold?"

Exhausted, pain-filled green eyes opened and stared up at Snape; Harry tiredly shook his head. Despite everyone that had been around him, he suddenly felt more alone than ever. Why did these things keep happening to him? He shuddered visibly, remembering his mother's begging. Why hadn't she just moved aside and let Voldemort have at him? She might have survived that night.

"Excuse me?" Severus asked his voice sharp, his face pale, making his onyx eyes look even darker.

Harry blinked at Snape, confusion deep in his glazed-over green eyes.

"You just said why hadn't she stepped aside, let him have you, and she might have survived. Do you think so little of your mother, Potter?" Severus demanded, not showing why he was truly affected. The Dark Lord had actually told Lily to move aside? He had tried, even if it was half-heartedly, to keep his promise and ensure Lily's survival? That had been all he'd asked for upon joining the Death Eaters, that Lily be left alone in the war.

"No," Harry rasped defensively, wincing as pain lashed through him.

"Don't speak; just try to get some rest, Potter," Severus advised, staring at the fourteen-year-old intently. He wondered if the youth blamed him; he would have no trouble blaming someone if that had happened to him. He would have to give Harry back his wand; he shuddered, dreading a repeat performance.

Harry grumbled about constantly being called "Potter" and thinking of changing his name to Potter Potter, because nobody else ever used his given name, apart from his two best friends. Then again, "Potter" was better than "Freak" or "Boy," or anything else his disgusting uncle, aunt, and cousin could come up with.

Severus remained quiet, but he had heard him. He wondered silently why Potter would care if he used his given name or not. Rather intriguing... A new coldness invaded him; he remembered the letter ― the temperature drops in Surrey. They had been warned; the Dementors had shown up at Privet Drive first. It made sense if that was where Fudge had sent them. But Harry hadn't been there, so he'd sent them elsewhere... Oh, he could kill Fudge right now for what he was doing. Knowing Harry's temper, he was worried the boy would make things worse for himself. Hopefully he would have perfected Occlumency by the time Hogwarts started back up again. It would help immensely with his temper, that was for sure.

With a sigh, Severus transfigured a stretcher and took Harry up the stairs to his room, and left him there to get comfortable. Once that was done, he made his way to the dungeons and brewed every potion Poppy wanted Harry to drink. He didn't like older Potions being used; they weren't as potent as new ones. He brewed the pain reliever first; it was the one he was going to need the most. He wasn't good at comforting people, or he would have stayed with Harry, but he hadn't comforted anyone in such a long time. Plus he wasn't sure just how his comfort would be received, with good reason. He had made the boy's life a living hell, under the assumption he was spoiled. How wrong he had been; instead, he had now, regretfully, added to the child's misery. It made him feel ashamed just thinking about it, and that was a very new feeling, especially in regards to Harry Potter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited by Jordre and Jake - Thank you :)


	14. Chapter 14

A New Place To Stay

Chapter 14 

Sirius Is Confused, and Harry's Getting Better 

Curiosity might have killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back :P

 

Remus floo'ed back to Grimmauld Place and was stopped as soon as he slid out the fireplace. Sirius was firing off questions at him; half of them had nothing to do with the Dementors' attack. "How is he? Is he all right? Did he get hurt? How did he look? Is Snape treating him right? Does he have any bruises? Did you talk to him? Did he seem happy? What's wrong― why aren't you talking?" Sirius demanded, getting worried by his best friend's silence.

"He was just attacked by Dementors, Sirius, he wasn't talking; he fell from his broom, which, incidentally, snapped," Remus sadly sighed.

"He let Harry fly?" Sirius asked, taken aback; maybe Harry's letter had been written by him without Snape's input after all.

"Of course he did, he's hardly going to keep him locked up all summer. You keep thinking the worst of him!" Remus sighed, sadly shaking his head.

"Of course I do! You're only grateful because of the potion," Sirius snapped, slumping down on the seat feeling sad and guilty.

"Regardless of my personal feelings for Snape, he's a teacher and wouldn't abuse Harry ― Dumbledore would find out and Snape would be in a world of trouble... you know that. Plus Harry is Lily's son as much as James', and you know how much he liked Lily," Remus commented as he sat down, regarding his friend curiously; he seemed too wound.

"So how is he?" Sirius asked, the letter in his pocket almost scalding him when he thought of its contents... and worse still, he knew Harry had a point.

"He has a few broken bones, but they are being healed as we speak. He's fine; the Dementors didn't kiss him," Remus tried to assure his friend.

"You say that as if it's every day things like that happen; it's not!" Sirius snapped angrily, unable to believe how casually Remus had spoken that sentence.

"Of course it's not, but it happened and there's nothing we can do about it," Remus said, his amber eyes glowing softly.

Sirius grimaced; he hated being cooped up in here. He was worried about Harry; he just wished he was free so he could have done what he was going to do last year: take Harry in himself. It wouldn't have mattered what Dumbledore said, he would have taken Harry in regardless. Now he had to rely on the old fool to stop himself from being found out― it would be harder to look after Harry in Azkaban. He knew that, and it sucked big-time; for now he was just going to have to be a good little animagus and do what he was told.

"What's wrong with you, anyway?" Remus asked, watching his friend and knowing something was wrong.

"Harry sent me a letter," Sirius eventually sighed, ignoring Kreacher's insane rambling as he slept in his boiler cupboard.

"And?" Remus replied confused.

"He's not very happy with me," Sirius confessed rather shame-facedly.

"Why not?" Remus frowned; what had Sirius done to make his godson furious at him?

"I kind of sent him a letter complaining about the fact Snivellus had him," Sirius admitted sourly.

"Sirius, you aren't fifteen anymore; stop it!" Remus snapped, shaking his head in exasperation at his best friend's silly antics.

"I know," Sirius snapped bitterly.

"What did he say?" Remus asked, curious despite himself.

Sirius handed it over, a red flush painting his cheeks.

Padfoot, 

I'm fine after seeing Cedric Diggory die; don't worry. Hell, I'm fine and dandy after seeing Voldemort brought back. Don't worry, I'm not blaming myself, I feel fantastic so really, don't worry. 

"What…." Remus trailed off, confused.

"I never asked him anything; I ranted about Snape for the entire letter. He's being…sarcastic," Sirius grimaced.

For your information, I kind of like it here. I've got a big room, the library to study in, and I get to go fly on my broom. Not that Snape is all honey and peaches; he's still… well, Snape, I suppose. 

Harry 

"Well, at least he's happy… you better write to him and apologize. If he's anything like James, he will have forgotten about it already," Remus said laughing kindly. He remembered how many times James and Sirius had fallen out over the years, fallen out for a matter of hours before making up again. They just couldn't stay mad at each other... unfortunately, Snape always bore the brunt of their “making up” pranks.

"He's not like James… not much, anyway," Sirius sighed morosely; he had tried to convince Harry to meet up with him in Hogsmeade. However, Harry had just kept saying no, that it wasn't safe; he shuddered remembering the look on Harry's face. He didn't know what it was, a cross between anger and happiness, or frustration and anger... he just wasn't sure at all.

"He wasn't raised with Lily and James, what more can you expect?" Remus cried in shocked exasperation.

"Just forget it, Remus," Sirius sighed, wishing he hadn't opened his mouth. James hadn't known sarcasm if it hit him on the head, until Snape had begun using it. Even then he hadn't ever been sarcastic. Harry had been in his letter, and he didn't like it. Harry was becoming too much like the man he was staying with for comfort. He couldn't help but look for his best friend in Harry, it was just natural ― James had been like his brother.

"You better buck up your ideas before you lose him forever!" Remus snapped, walking out of the room. He knew what was going through his best friend's mind, and he did not like it one bit. He knew Sirius loved his godson, but wished he was more like his father; he didn't get why Sirius thought Harry wasn't like his father.

 

\--- 

Harry tried to stop the tears from falling. He was used to pain; it was all he had ever known. However, as much as he tried, he couldn't stop the tears― he was just so damn tired of his life. It seemed that horrible things kept on happening to him, no matter how good he was or how hard he tried to stay out of trouble. He had been alone most of his life, with no one to care about him. Dumbledore and Remus had left as soon as they knew he had survived, uncaring about anything else, not even saying a goodbye, or even telling Snape to say goodbye for them later when he “woke up.” Hermione... he liked to think she cared, but Harry knew better grades and books would always be more important to her. She certainly would never have been sorted into Hufflepuff; he still found it odd that she wasn't in Ravenclaw.

His entire right side was in agony, he felt like he had gone two rounds of beatings by his Uncle Vernon. He usually could cry when he was finally locked in his room, but he was with Snape; he couldn't be seen as weak. He wouldn't hear the end of it; everyone would know, he was sure of it. As nice as Snape was being at the moment, he knew the second they were in school he would have to don his masks, and Snape would too. He had seen a different side to Snape; he wasn't so nasty when they were alone― he was decent to him when no one else ever had been. Despite his pain, he felt a small glow in his heart: someone had cared enough to let him get clothes and get his money sorted out. The small glow turned into a big one when he remembered the small measure of comfort Snape had given him.

"How are you feeling?" Severus asked surprisingly softly as he entered Harry's room. He could see the remains of tear tracks on the child's face and knew he was probably in severe pain. He chose to pretend he didn't see them, or the embarrassed flush spreading across the boy’s cheeks. It didn't take reading someone's mind for him to know why Harry was embarrassed.

"Like I've plummeted fifty feet," Harry said bluntly, unable to help himself. Harry felt like hitting himself; he was going to have to curb his tongue before it got him into trouble. If he wasn't already in trouble, that was; wary green eyes met Snape's, wondering if he had gone too far.

Severus smirked, ignoring the wary look the child gave him; instead of stalking forward, he walked. It had been a long time since he'd just walked anywhere, but he didn't want the boy flinching from him. He felt guilty enough as it was without seeing just how badly damaged Harry Potter was. He uncorked a pain reliever potion and told Harry to open up. Harry did, knowing it was a pain reliever; he'd had many of them before in his short years at Hogwarts. Plus they had brewed the exact same potion for the hospital wing― they had already boxed everything up. His entire body slumped onto the bed as the potion took effect; before it had been taut like a bow. No wonder; with that amount of pain, nobody would have been able to relax. Harry couldn't help but sigh gratefully. Potions were truly wonderful. They had helped him a lot over these past four years, it was just a shame he never got a chance to brew properly. It wasn't expected of James Potter's son, unlike his Charms and Transfiguration classes, and Defence, because he'd defeated Voldemort.

"Do you think you could eat something?" Severus asked, watching the teenager intently without making it obvious, something he had learned to do long ago ― he was a spy, after all. He couldn't let anyone see him watching Harry Potter, of all people, or he would have been dead the night of the Tri-Wizard tournament, along with Cedric Diggory, a boy who had almost graduated Hogwarts. Severus had protested about holding the entire thing. He hadn't wanted the Tri-Wizard tournament, not just because of all the seventh year students who wouldn't study because of all the carrying on and students piling all over the place. He had been right, the grades for that year were the worst yet; most would argue that it was because of what happened; Severus knew better.

"Uh, no, sir," Harry eventually said; the potion had made him feel kind of sick. Then again, it might have something to do with its being taken on a empty stomach. He had been sick when he had fallen; the pain had caused him to puke everything back up again.

"At least some soup; you cannot have potions on an empty stomach," Severus smoothly insisted.

"Yes, sir," Harry said automatically, not wanting to piss his professor off. Plus he felt kind of happy that someone was taking care of him. Someone that technically didn't have to, like Madame Pomfrey had to when he was in the hospital wing.

"Rose?" Severus shouted, authority clear in his voice.

"Yes, sir?" Rose asked, popping up out of nowhere without a sound, unlike when wizards or witches apparated.

"I'd like some soup brought up, and fresh bread if there's any made, and a small dessert," Severus directed.

"We has made some carrot and coriander soup, Master Severus, will that be okay?" Rose asked softly.

Severus grimaced at the thought of eating such a weird soup. No doubt it hadn’t been intended for them; the house-elves must have made it for themselves. "No; just open a tin of vegetable soup for him please," Severus requested. He knew the boy would eat anything, but he didn't think it included carrot soup. Although Harry ate a lot of carrots, it didn't mean he would like carrot and herb soup; he certainly didn't.

"Yes, sir," Rose said, popping out.

Severus helped Harry sit up; knowing he wouldn't be in pain at the moment, he didn't have to treat the child like china and ruin his reputation. Although he knew that had already gone to hell when he’d taken the boy shopping. He propped him up on the pillows and ran another diagnostic spell, and winced in sympathy. There was a bruise the length of Harry's shoulder, back, bottom, and thigh. The Skele-grow potion had gone its job, and his bones were well on their way to being completely healed.

"I will give you a potion to help with the bruising in a few hours; unfortunately I do not have any right now. Poppy has run out of her stock and I had to give her my own personal stock at the end of the year," Severus said.

"It's fine." Harry shrugged; he was used to bruises and pain, although he wouldn't say no to a pain reliever. Considering he had been in agony not five minutes ago, Severus wouldn't like to think so.

Rose popped back and served him his soup, fresh bread, and some sponge cake with custard and a nutritious milkshake. Harry smelt it and his stomach began rumbling loudly; he had no problem eating the food after that. He even managed to eat the majority of his dessert, but left a small piece of it with some custard. As usual the milkshake made him feel pleasantly full despite the fact that he hadn't eaten as much as usual.

"I'll be back in an hour to see how you are doing; I have a potion to brew," Severus abruptly said; standing up, he placed a few books within Harry's reach, not wanting the boy to laze about. It was best to be occupied rather than sitting staring at four walls; that was enough to drive anyone barmy. He couldn't stand the Hospital Wing for even five minutes; he hadn't been sure how Harry, even if he had been Potter then, had survived.

"Yes, sir," Harry said; he would rather have brewed it with him― he liked brewing. He had actually enjoyed making those healing potions with Snape. Without him hovering over the cauldrons or snarling sarcastic remarks all the time, and the Slytherins sabotaging everything he tried to brew, he had found it, strangely enough... relaxing.

\-----0

"Do you feel any pain?" Severus asked, once again in Harry's room some time later.

Harry nodded his head, grimacing; the pain reliever had only lasted an hour and a half. It was the length of time Severus had been away brewing a potion. Another pain reliever was thrust under his nose; he gratefully took it and swallowed quickly. He barely stopped the flinch when Severus produced his wand; Severus saw it and sighed sadly― the boy truly didn't trust him.

"The bones are fully healed, it's just the bruising that's left behind. The potion will take a few hours to cool. Are you hungry?" Severus asked.

"Maybe a little," Harry softly admitted; he couldn't believe how… nice, for lack of other words to use, Snape was being. Snape had said earlier that he would be back, but Harry hadn't believed him, not really. He was going to have to stop doubting Snape, because he knew deep down when Snape spoke it was always the truth. Here he was, feeding him up; no one had ever done that for him before. He remembered when his Aunt Petunia had done that for his cousin when he was ill, letting him lay in bed all day, taking him up food all the time, making sure he was fine... Harry would never take this day for granted no matter how long he lived.

"Orchid," Severus called.

"Yes, sir?" Orchid asked, another female house-elf― like all his other female elves, she was named after a flower. The male house elves were named randomly; they couldn't, after all, be named after flowers.

"Bring us up some coffee, juice, and biscuits," Severus requested.

"Yes, sir," Orchid acknowledged, popping away.

"Are they free house-elves?" Harry asked curiously.

"Indeed," Severus said, creating a chair for him to sit in, and another table for the coffee to go on.

"Ask the question you want to ask," Severus said after a few seconds of watching Harry opening and closing his mouth like he wanted to ask something.

"Why did you free them? Why did they stay?" Harry asked, his green eyes gleaming with curiosity.

Severus' breath was almost caught in his throat; those eyes were going to be his downfall. The look in Harry's eyes had been the expression Lily had worn most of her life, that unending gleam of curiosity. Especially before she went to Hogwarts, and begged to hear more of the world she would one day become a part off.

"They are free because I did not want anyone or anything enslaved to me; they stayed because they are loyal to the Prince line. Despite word to the contrary, I am not a nasty bastard all the time, especially not to the elves," Severus bluntly said.

"So not all house-elves are abused then?" Harry asked curiously.

Orchid was back with the food; she placed the plates on the table and left once more. She was looking at Harry curiously as if she had heard everything he had said, or maybe it was because there were hardly any guests at Snape's other than Draco Malfoy.

"Not all of them, no, it just depends which family they serve," Severus said, his mouth twisting as if he was remembering something disgusting.

"Even bound, they can do what they like, or at least get round the orders their master gives them," Harry commented, nibbling the chocolate digestive he had taken from the plate. It was something he wouldn't have dared to do at the Dursleys'; Severus had felt a sense of satisfaction when Harry took something without waiting for permission or until he had. It meant the boy was beginning to trust him, or perhaps feel at least a little bit comfortable in his presence, whether the child realized it or not.

"How is that?" Severus asked in surprise as he drank his coffee. He was surprised because Harry was actually speaking to him willingly without prompting or being driven into anger. He was also surprised by the fact Harry was talking about house-elves; he hadn't been aware the boy even knew one.

"Dobby disobeyed the Malfoys; he was the one that levitated the cake and shut off the entrance to Kings Cross. He was adamant about me not remaining at Hogwarts, because bad things were going to happen. Eventually he resorted to sending cursed bludgers after me," Harry said, a fond smile twitching his lips.

Severus' heart lurched seeing that smile; he had never seen anything like it on the boy before. Not even when he was with his best friends, Granger and Weasley. Just how much of the boy remained hidden behind the “boy-who-lived” mask? He felt genuinely sorry for Harry. He knew what it was like, having to don masks all the time, but at least he only had to teach students. He could go to his quarters and de-mask, as it were, but Harry couldn't.

"So the platform had really closed?" Severus asked. Back in second year, Potter hadn't looked him in the eye. He hadn't been able to tell if they had been lying or not; he had assumed they were, because Dumbledore had reported there was nothing wrong with the platform. So many things that had happened truly hadn't been Harry’s fault, and he wasn't sure what to think of it. He was wrong, and he didn't like being wrong; it hadn't helped his preconceived notions about Harry. He had believed the boy had done it in a bid for attention, all the time.

"Yeah; I didn't know house-elf magic was so strong. He kept warning me, though each time he would punish himself something rotten," Harry shuddered horrifically. "He ironed his hands for charming the bludger to go after me."

Severus winced in sympathetic pain for what that house-elf had surely gone through.

"If I know Lucius, then that house-elf will be dead," Severus said simply. He didn't lie to people and refused to start now, but instead of looking horrified, Harry looked very pleased with himself. He knew there and then, before Harry opened his mouth and continued with his story. He would never have imagined what he was about to hear, but he should have suspected something.

"Oh no; I found out at the end of the year who he belonged to… I took off my sock outside Dumbledore's office and stuffed it into the book that had almost brought Voldemort back. I handed it to Mr. Malfoy― it was him, who had done it― and he handed it off to Dobby. I told him to open it, and he did. He was freed; Mr. Malfoy was furious― he tried to kill me, but Dobby intervened and used his magic to fling him all the way along the corridor. He fell with an undignified squawk, and then proceeded to threaten me, telling me I'd meet the same sticky end as my parents." Harry smirked, satisfaction lingering in his eyes.

Severus had to stop himself from choking in shock; the image brought to mind was hilarious indeed. The man who had killed hundreds of Muggles, and a good few more wizards and witches, taken down by a house-elf. If only he could tell Lucius about his newly acquired information; Voldemort would probably kill Lucius on the spot. Unknown to him, his onyx eyes were twinkling more brightly than Dumbledore's on a good day, and Harry knew he was amused, despite his emotionless face.

"Well, Potter, you seem to get yourself out of sticky situations more than most," Severus said, smirking slightly.

"Well, you know me: sheer dumb luck, sir," Harry said, withholding a smirk, not wanting anyone to see it. He never smirked; he was goody-two-shoes Harry bloody Potter, son of James Potter. He was not the carefree boy he portrayed to the world, he was damaged― he knew that. It took a while to get back into the mould when he went back to Privet Drive, or even afterwards, turning back into the arrogant, spoiled brat at Hogwarts. All he wanted was a family, someone to love him and tell him so, someone to make proud. None of his Hogwarts results ever got read, unlike Ron's and Hermione's, who had their parents gushing over their results. Even Dudley, who got truly pathetic grades, had his parents gushing over how “smart” their “sweetums” was. Things people took for granted, that's what Harry wanted.

He had told Sirius his results for third year; he had never gotten so much as a “well done” or “great work.” Of course Hedwig had been exhausted for days after flying away to the tropics, so he didn't send too many letters. He truly loved his owl, it was his companion, someone to share his secrets with, and something that didn't have any expectations and couldn't betray him. Hedwig and Hedwig alone knew what he had to put up with; well, maybe Snape had an idea.

Harry didn't know things were going to change; for once in his fourteen, nearly fifteen years, it was going to be a good thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Jake and Jorde for editing!


	15. Chapter 15

A New Place To Stay 

Chapter 15 

Information On Harry's Second Year And The Diary 

 

Severus had brought the bruise balm to Harry, only to find the teenager fast asleep; he didn't want to wake him up. You wouldn't have thought Harry had the weight of the world on his shoulders, or that he had just seen someone die if you saw him sleeping. He looked at peace, an angel lying there resting peacefully, unaware of his fate. Even if Severus didn't know the entire contents of that blasted prophecy, he'd gotten the gist of it, and it wasn't exactly promising. He had sworn to protect her son and he kept failing; he knew somewhere, somehow, he was missing the bigger picture of things. Or rather Dumbledore's bigger picture of everything, and for the life of him he couldn't figure out what it was. He had left the room after putting a pain reliever on the nightstand for when Harry did wake up. He had checked on Harry again a little later, but he’d still been asleep; the pain reliever had been empty, though, so he knew the boy had been up at some point.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Potter; how do you feel?" Severus smoothly asked when Harry finally woke up.

"I'm sorry for sleeping in," Harry murmured warily, wondering if he was going to be on the receiving end of a diatribe.

"I did not ask for an apology; I asked how you were," Severus said, cutting off Harry's stumbling apologies. He wasn't angry with the boy for sleeping in, but didn't want to listen to mindless babble, thank you very much. It had been the main reason he had freed the house-elves and told them to leave, because he had gotten so damn sick of them bowing and scraping at his feet. Nothing he said or did had ever gotten through to them until he handed them clothes and asked them to leave. Slowly after that he began making progress with them; he certainly didn't want to have to listen to Harry Potter pleading that he hadn't meant to sleep in.

"I'm fine, thank you, Professor Snape," Harry told him, a blank look on his face; he seemed utterly bewildered by someone asking him how he was. It turned Severus' stomach― after all this time thinking he was spoiled, he learned that Harry didn't even seem to know how to take someone’s asking after him.

"Are you in pain?" Severus asked, his eyes boring into green ones.

Harry looked deeply conflicted; his usual response would be to tell Snape he was fine. However, his teacher always knew when he was lying, did he tell him he was fine and get on with his day or did he tell him the truth? He wasn't supposed to moan or complain, that had been the first rule drummed into him as a little boy.

"The truth, Mr. Potter," Severus said softly. He could read Harry Potter like he could an open book, and could see the conflict going on in those green eyes. Being abused himself, he knew what he was probably thinking: whether to tell the truth or not.

Having Snape say that made up his mind for Harry― he told the truth. "It's just the bruising that's sore," Harry softly admitted, wondering if this was what it was like to have a parent. He had been thinking that quite a lot recently; he didn't know why, but it was never far from his mind. For when his teacher gave him the balm to heal his blisters, took him shopping for clothes, helped him with his accounts and now was asking how he was, he seemed like a concerned parent. As he thought about it, it made him miss his parents all the more, but it also made him realize there was more than one way to care for someone. Snape had grudgingly looked after him since he’d come into the Wizarding world; the strange thing was, he knew with a deep certainty that he hated him, so it still confused him to no end. Maybe one day he would work up the nerve actually to ask him why he continued helping him and saving his life. It was a good thing Snape had, or he wouldn't have survived past his first year... or maybe he would have, who knew? He certainly didn't.

"Come here, sit sideways on the chair," Severus instructed, bringing out the jar of salve he had brewed especially for Harry.

Flushing bright red, Harry removed his shirt and lowered his trousers slightly, and sat sideways in front of Snape. The cool cream made him shiver, but it soon began warming up as it was rubbed in. It was painful having black bruises rubbed like that, but he had endured worse. All things considered, it could have been worse; Snape could have been a lot harsher if he had wanted. He began feeling a tingling sensation― the salve had begun doing its job; he could literally feel the bruises receding.

"Tell me, Potter, more about that diary you mentioned," Severus said; he hadn't been able to sleep properly thinking about it. He knew it was important, it had to be; he knew the Dark Lord dabbled in the Dark Arts, but this kind of thing… he had heard rumors about before.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, frowning in confusion.

"Tell me everything you know about it: what happened, how you felt, how it was destroyed… everything." Despite not wanting to be sarcastic, he hadn't been able to help himself with the last word. He handed Harry the rest of the jar for him to apply the rest of it himself. He hadn't expected his student to start taking his clothes off and do it right there while he began talking! His mind immediately began absorbing everything Harry was saying as he averted his eyes from the sorry state the boy was in. Most of his leg was black― he had landed on it pretty hard. Worse still, the boy didn't seem bothered. He was applying the potions as if it was normal for him; then again, he knew it probably was.

"Lucius Malfoy gave it to Ginny Weasley that day we all went to Diagon Alley for our books," explained Harry; his trousers off, he began using the salve to get the rest of the bruises sorted out. "I never noticed it until after the Chamber had been opened; Ginny had tried to flush it down the toilet in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom," Harry said casually. "I took the diary and began writing in it. The weird thing was, the ink sank into the book, and it replied as if it had a brain, or someone else was writing in a copy, or something."

"Didn't anyone tell you not to touch things that seemed like they had a brain of their own?" Severus asked scornfully before he could help himself.

"No; who was going to tell me? Quirrell? Lockhart?" Harry shot back just as sarcastically.

Severus grudgingly conceded the point, impressed with the boy's sarcasm. Now he knew how the boy could have ended up in Slytherin.

"All I learned those years was never to judge a person by his looks, and never to believe everything written in books," Harry scoffed.

Severus just nodded curtly, knowing that what the boy was saying was the truth without even needing to read his mind.

"Anyway, it showed me a memory of this boy, Tom Riddle, blaming Hagrid for Moaning Myrtle's death. Or rather his spider; I mean, the headmaster at the time must have been stupid ever to believe that," Harry said, sneering lightly, forgetting where he was and whom he was talking to. Severus did a double take at the look on the boy's face in astonishment, unable to believe what he had just seen.

"I never spoke to the diary again after that; I didn't believe Hagrid capable of it― he was my friend. My first friend, one of the best ones I've ever had," Harry said, his voice gone wistful. "He got me Hedwig ―my owl― as my first birthday present… and he gave me pictures of my parents at the end of my first year. No one had ever done anything like that for me before, and I was ever so grateful to him for it."

Severus' eyes had a sad look in them as he saw Harry's face, guilt squirming like a living thing inside him once more for his preconceived notions regarding Harry Potter.

"Eventually it was stolen from Gryffindor tower, and I never saw it again until I was down in the Chamber of Secrets." Harry sighed morosely. "When it said that her body had been taken down to the Chamber, I did go down to help her, but I also went down because I was afraid Hogwarts would shut down and I'd be sent back to the Dursleys'. I didn't know how important I was for Dumbledore not to lose back then."

Severus was surprised by the Dumbledore reference― so the boy wasn't blind to Dumbledore's manipulations; that definitely was unexpected, to say the least. It was a good thing really; so the boy would know never to place blind trust in the old fool. He didn't either, but he had felt, up until that very moment, like the only one that ever questioned Dumbledore's motives. The others all blindly followed him; even Alastor Moody did, and that was saying something. It didn't surprise him after hearing everything he had that Harry had gone down to the Chamber basically to stop Hogwarts from being shut down. The more he heard from Harry, the more he realized just how much a Slytherin the boy actually was.

"What exactly happened down there? Albus just told us you had destroyed Voldemort and saved the school once more," Severus said; obviously there was more to the story than he knew.

"Well, I tried to get help, but I knew if anyone else knew what I was planning, they wouldn't help. So I did the stupid thing and went for Lockhart; it was only when I noticed him packing his belongings up that I knew for certain he was a fake. Ron and me, we pulled our wands on him and took him with us, pushed him into the Chamber first to make sure it was safe," shrugged Harry.

Severus' lips disappeared into his mouth as he fought of the insane urge to laugh. Laugh in front of Harry Potter of all people, his reputation would be shot to hell even more than it was right now. Again a very smart, Slytherin thing to do, never going anywhere dangerous first; there was another word for it: self-preservation. Despite his urge to laugh, he was listening intently to everything he learned, especially about the book, diary, or whatever the hell it was. Dumbledore had made them all think that Voldemort, as a spirit ―the same spirit that had fled Hogwarts in Harry's first year after possessing Quirrell ―had possessed Ginny Weasley.

"When it was obvious he had survived, me and Ron went next; unfortunately, or fortunately, he grabbed Ron's wand and tried to Obliviate us. He was going to say he tried to save us all and the school only to fail, for his next book. But Ron had broken his wand earlier that year, and the spell backfired, not only Obliviating Lockhart, but causing part of the chamber to collapse. Ron and me got separated; I went on and left Ron with a bewildered Lockhart, and found Ginny lying there seemingly dead," Harry related, a shudder wracking his frame. He put his t-shirt and trousers back on and sat back comfortably on the chair; it wasn't bothering him anymore to be talking so candidly to Snape.

Severus' eyebrows had disappeared into his hairline in shock.

"Out of nowhere Tom Riddle came walking out and began telling me Ginny would be dead soon. He then proceeded to tell me all about who he really was, telling me that he was a wizard everyone would one day fear to speak about and that he would become the greatest sorcerer in the world," Harry told his professor, smirking in amusement. "Of course he had by then revealed his name to me, Tom Marvolo Riddle. He is better known now by an anagram of his name; 'I am Lord Voldemort,” it became."

Severus nodded, he already knew that much― that the Dark Lord was a half-blood; that was something Dumbledore had rubbed in soon after he’d gone to the old fool, not a few weeks after telling him he was utterly disgusted by him for not wanting James Potter saved. Then again, what did the fucking old fool expect? James Potter had made his life a living hell at Hogwarts, then proceeded to take the one good thing in his life away from him. Everything he did, he did for Lily, the one person he loved more than anything in the world.

"When I say it was Tom Riddle, I mean it was Tom Riddle; he was only a couple years older than me, this spectre. It was tied to the diary; it could speak Parseltongue and it had all his memories up until that point. Um, he called the basilisk and I spent the next ten minutes running away from it. Fawkes had blinded it and also brought me the Sorting Hat," Harry explained. With every word he spoke he felt like a weight was being removed from his shoulders. He really should have spoken about it sooner; having someone to talk to like this was liberating, to say the least.

"Basilisk?" Severus croaked, wide-eyed, unable even to think about containing his reaction. Just how had Harry Potter survived that? He was never listening to Albus Dumbledore again, and that was a bloody promise.

"Yeah, I asked the Hat for help and a sword fell out― the sword of Godric Gryffindor, of all things. I ran for a while more, absolutely freezing cold, and ended up on the head of Salazar Slytherin and managed to drive the sword through the basilisk's mouth and into its brain," Harry replied, not a hint of boasting to be heard in his voice.

Severus blinked and frowned in severe confusion. "Impossible, nothing can penetrate basilisk hide," was all his teacher said.

"Nothing?" Harry asked, cocking his head to the side, looking at his teacher curiously.

"Supposedly," Severus grunted in confusion. "Only thing I know that could possible do the trick are weapons made by the goblins..." Or rather goblin-made weapons; it was, he supposed, the same thing at the end of the day.

"What difference does that make?" Harry asked, frowning in confusion himself.

"Goblin-made artifacts are imbued with powerful magic," Severus said; all old pureblood families knew that. He had a dagger in a case with a sapphire-encrusted hilt, a beautiful piece, and it had the Prince name written down it. He got up and gestured for Harry to follow him; he did indeed show him the dagger.

Harry gasped in awe. "It's beautiful," he whispered.

"Indeed; nothing can break Goblin-made weaponry; it's made to last. I had no idea it could get through basilisk hide as well," Severus said, smirking slightly; something else he could add to his never-ending store of knowledge.

"I guess they always put jewels into them; the sword of Gryffindor has rubies in the hilt," Harry mused thoughtfully, his green eyes still full of awe as he looked at the beautiful piece in front of him.

"The Goblins don't know how to make anything but expensive pieces," Severus remarked smoothly.

"Oh," Harry said, nodding his head; he followed Severus back into the kitchen, where lunch was now being served by Orchid and Daisy. "Anyway, when I stabbed the basilisk, one of the fangs ended up catching me on my upper arm. I crawled over to Ginny, and Riddle began telling me I'd be with my 'filthy Mudblood' mother soon." Harry's lip curled up in disdain, causing Severus to flinch... or maybe it was the horrible word that caused it. The word that had destroyed everything in a single second of embarrassment and anger after Potter had humiliated him in front of the entire school. Or maybe it was because he couldn't believe Harry had been bitten by a basilisk and survived; who knew, perhaps it was all three.

Severus was incapable of saying anything as he waited for Harry to finish the story… wondering silently what on earth could have saved Harry from basilisk venom, the most deadly venom known to wizard-kind. It didn't have an antidote, and sure as hell killed within three minutes.

"I was dying and Volde… HE had pissed me off by calling my mother by that name. I had gone the first eleven years of my life thinking my parents were drunks who got themselves and nearly me killed in a car crash, only to learn they had died for me; I felt undeniably ashamed of ever thinking badly of them. I never once thought that the Dursleys had lied... anyway, I suddenly just wanted to take HIM down with me― if I was gonna die, he would too. I removed the fang from my arm and plunged it into the diary; instead of blood spurting out, ink did. As the ink spurted out, Tom Riddle began dying too― his very essence was tied to the diary," Harry explained off-handedly.

"How did you survive?" Severus rasped, unable to believe how hoarse his voice sounded. The thought of Harry dying made him feel physically sick; before, he had just been exasperated at the danger Harry attracted and was fulfilling his vow. Everything he'd learned had changed his feelings, much to his dismay, because he was a spy and it wasn't good for a spy to feel.

"Fawkes came and healed me with his tears," Harry said, grabbing his fork and digging into his food― it was still warm, too. The house-elves must have had some sort of stay-warm charm on it; he was rather curious about house-elf magic.

"What happened to the diary?" Severus demanded thoughtfully.

"Um… Dobby has it… I think," Harry said honestly.

"Can you call him?" asked Severus his eyes narrowed.

"I don't know… he's at Hogwarts now; I think he's still free though," Harry replied thoughtfully.

"Shout for him," Severus instructed.

"Dobby?" shouted Harry, feeling a little stupid.

"Master Harry Potter needs Dobby?" the little house-elf squeaked, his eyes wide with wonder.

"Um… Dobby, what happened to the diary I gave you in second year?" Harry asked curiously.

"Headmaster Dumbledore demanded it back, Master Harry Potter sir," Dobby squeaked.

"Could you find it?" Harry asked, looking at Snape to see if it was all right for him to continue; Severus nodded.

"Of course, anything Master Harry Potter needs!" beamed Dobby, obviously happy to help his beloved hero.

"Go on then," Harry said softly. He was getting better at dealing with house-elves now; he was, in other words, basically following Snape's example: being firm with them, but not abusive or making them cry over a word of kindness.

Dobby popped away, nodding eagerly.

Severus shook his head ruefully― Harry certainly had weird friends: Hagrid, a half-giant; an owl, a house-elf; Lupin was, of course, another one. Then he had his stupid mutt of a godfather... yep, a very nice collection of friends indeed, if he could even call Black a friend. Black was only there when he wanted to be; he certainly wasn't godfather material.

He could write a thousand reasons for that being the case, the first one being that he was an immature bastard. He didn't know why Lily had allowed Potter to have his way and select Black as godfather.

"I've got a question for you, Mr. Potter: why did you stun me that night in the Shrieking Shack?" Severus asked, remembering how furious he had been that night. It had bothered him for weeks, trying to figure out why Potter had stunned him.

Harry blinked, obviously not expecting that kind of question. He looked awkward and embarrassed.

"Well?" Severus demanded, his eyes narrowing as the boy continued to be silent.

"I thought he was innocent; you would have seen him kissed before listening to us," Harry said quietly. He had paid for stunning his professor in House points and detentions; he had been furious, or worse than furious, if there was a word for it.

"You do understand why, don't you, Potter?" Severus asked, his lip curling in disdain.

"Uh… no, not really." Harry blinked.

"Just because you thought Black was innocent, it didn't mean others did. I thought he was responsible for my best friend's death, and I would have killed the bastard," Severus snarled, unable to stop himself from getting angry at the thought.

"I wanted to as well, but it turns out I was weak," Harry confessed honestly, his green eyes dimming. His stomach was glowing and squirming happily; the thought that someone loved his mum enough to become a murderer to get revenge on the one that killed her made him feel… something he hadn't felt before in his life, and he wasn't sure what exactly it was. He realized, though, that Severus couldn't exactly kill Pettigrew without revealing himself as a spy, which sucked big-time.

"Meaning what, exactly?" Severus frowned.

"I told them not to kill Pettigrew… it's my fault he got away; I let the prophecy come true," Harry said, shame-faced.

Severus' fork fell with a clang, his eyes wide with shock.

"You know the prophecy?" Severus gasped, wide-eyed.

Harry looked at Severus warily, wondering why he had the feeling Snape had the wrong end of a very large stick.

"At my divination exam, Trelawney made a prophecy, that the chained servant would break free and bring his master back to be greater and more terrible than ever before," Harry explained bitterly; if only he could turn back time― well, without driving himself mad― he would do it in a heartbeat. He could see the relief in Snape's eye and knew there was another prediction… one probably pertaining to him. Another question on the long list of questions he wanted the answer to.

"I see," Severus said, getting his heartbeat back to a more normal rate. That sentence had scared the living daylights out of him; he was just glad it had been a misunderstanding. If the boy was as Slytherin as he said he was, he was no doubt curious about his reaction, and he felt like cursing. At least her second prediction hadn't taken years to complete, as her first one still wasn't completed... or at least he didn't think so.

Dobby suddenly popped back into view, distracting them from their thoughts about prophecies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to Jake and Jordre for editing!


	16. Chapter 16

A New Place To Stay   
Chapter 16   
Pensieve Memories And Some More To That Diary

"Here you are, Master Harry Potter sir, is there anything else Dobby can be doing for Master Harry Potter?" Dobby squeaked, hyperactively jumping up and down and looking excited. He still had that awful pillow case on, and he just looked ridiculous; he didn't realize just how badly dressed he was. Especially next to the Potion Master's house-elves Harry was used to seeing now. On his head was a bunch of mismatched knitted hats made by Hermione during her S.P.E.W campaign. Unsurprisingly, all she had done was alienate them and make Dobby the only one willing to clean Gryffindor tower, the poor thing.

"Sir, do you have any more of those costumes that you use for Rose and Orchid?" Harry asked, his eyes beseeching Snape. He would never beg for anything for himself, but when it came to his friends, he would get down on his hands and knees in front of the devil himself.

Severus looked at Harry curiously; the boy was actually begging him with his eyes for this simple request? That was new, but if he knew anything about Harry, he knew how disgustingly loyal he was to those he cared about. He seemed to forget that he himself was, as he put it, 'disgustingly loyal,' even if it was only to one person ― Lily Evans. He saw the boy's eyes fall and realized he had spent too long lost in his thoughts; he rolled his eyes.

"Rose?" Severus called, sighing in exasperation: the things he did for Harry bloody Potter. For once, though, he wasn't complaining in his normal snarky way. Thinking about the 'spoiled brat' getting his own way, for the first time he realized just how much Harry loved all his friends. Friends, a bloody house-elf― Potter was a weird one, that was for sure.

"Yes?" Rose asked coming to her Master's side. Even if she was technically a free house-elf, she would always think of Severus as her Master.

Dobby gasped wide-eyed at the house-elf, a look of awe and shock on his little but larger-than-the-rest-of-him head. He couldn't believe the house-elf was free but serving the dark man, also shocked that the house-elf hadn't displayed the proper greeting.

"Bring me a uniform without the embroidery on it," Severus simply said; Rose nodded curtly and popped away.

"Thank you." Harry grinned, unable to believe he had gotten his way― he was sure Dobby would feel better with a proper closed winter robe to fit him. It was what he had worn all the time to stop everyone seeing his oversized, baggy clothes, even if it helped stop him from looking so skinny with all the extra material. Dudley’s being fat had helped Harry keep his secrets, so something good had come out of him being a fat pig in a blond wig.

Rose popped back into existence and handed the robe to Severus before looking at him expectantly for a few seconds. When he said nothing Rose popped out, already used to her Master's quiet ways; she had been one of the house-elves given clothes for bowing and scraping. She had been petrified when she was released― she had served the Prince line proudly for generations; with hard work she managed to become a house-elf her Master was proud of. That meant more to her than the proper greetings that had been drummed into her by her parents when she was a baby elf.

"Here," Severus said, handing it over to Harry.

"Sir? Do you have a Pensieve? I could show you the memory; I think it would be better than trying to remember everything. That way you can see for yourself what happened... I mean, if you want to," Harry quickly added when he realized Severus had gone quiet on him.

"How would you know of the existence of Pensieves, Mr. Potter?" Severus asked coolly.

"Dumbledore left one lying out for me to find," Harry replied, bitterness deep in his voice. The call to a Pensieve was very difficult to ignore, especially when the memories were swirling around― he knew that now. He had read about them a few days ago after getting curious as to whether his Potions Master had one in his library.

"What did you see?" Severus asked, suspicion clouding him.

"Karkaroff's trial," Harry said, a bitter frown twisting his lips.

Severus' eyes widened in fury at Dumbledore's reckless actions; not only had his bloody position been compromised, but what happened to the Longbottoms had been discussed at that trial. He knew Longbottom hadn't told anyone what had happened to his parents; he didn't even like thinking about it. Frank and Alice had been Order members; he had known them a little.

Harry had turned straight towards Dobby and missed the flash of truly undeniable anger in Severus' eyes. If he had seen it, Harry probably wouldn't have been able to control his reactions and cowered from Severus. He passed the closed robe to Dobby and told him that it was his now and to wear it like a proud 'free' house-elf.

The diary was passed over to Harry as Dobby burst into tears and popped away, clearly overwhelmed by Harry's kindness.

"Here," Harry said, handing over the blackened, dead diary to Severus. It was basically the way he remembered it. While Severus accepted it, he summoned his own Pensieve; he took it everywhere with him, and right now it was empty. That too had been in the Prince family for generations and was something that had helped him immensely over the years.

"To use it, Potter, you need to think of the memory and only that one, or you will end up with a mass of half memories in the Pensieve," Severus said curtly, placing the bowl in front of them very delicately. He obviously valued the Pensieve, as he was treating it like it was the Holy Grail. Harry nodded his head slowly, showing he understood, but continued to stare at Severus weirdly.

"Well, Potter?" Severus said, frowning at the boy who just continued to stare at him as if he was something fascinating.

"You will have to do it― I don't have a wand," Harry reminded his teacher emotionlessly.

Severus felt like hitting himself; of course the boy didn't have a wand. He had been meaning to give it back to the boy, but somehow he always kept forgetting. He swiftly called for Harry's wand and it smoothly floated through the air and into Severus' open palm. He handed it over, noticing it was very similar to one he had seen before. He shook the thought off and waited rather impatiently for Harry to extract his memory, so he could see for himself what exactly had happened in that chamber.

Touching it together they both fell into the memory and watched it play out. Severus noticed immediately that Potter had decided to show the memory from when the boys were in the Defence classroom. He noticed immediately that Potter still looked very small, even against Ronald Weasley in second year.

"What about my sister?" Ron asked jerkily.

"Well, as to that ― most unfortunate," Lockhart said, avoiding their eyes, wrenching open drawers and emptying the contents into a bag. "No one regrets more than I ―"

"You're the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher!" Harry protested. "You can't go now! Not with all the dark stuff going on here!"

"Oh, Potter, you really were stupid," Severus said shaking his head as he watched the interactions going on in the Pensieve.

"I was twelve!" Harry protested indignantly.

"Well, I must say… when I took the job…" Lockhart muttered, now piling socks on top of his robes, "nothing in the job description … didn't expect…"

"You mean you're running away?" Harry demanded disbelievingly. "After all that stuff in your books?"

Severus rolled his eyes and wondered again why Po…Harry had started it here of all places.

"Books can be misleading," Lockhart said delicately.

"You wrote them!" Harry shouted.

"My dear boy," Lockhart said, causing older Harry to grimace at the title; Dumbledore called him that and he hated the phrase. "Do use your common sense. My books wouldn't have sold half as well if people didn't think I'd done all those things. No one wants to read about some ugly old Armenian warlock, even if he did save a village from werewolves. He'd look dreadful on the front cover. No dress sense at all. And the witch who banished the Bandon Banshee had a hairy chin. I mean, come on…"

"So you've just been taking credit for what a load of other people have done?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Harry, Harry," Lockhart sighed, shaking his head impatiently "It's not nearly as simple as that. There was work involved. I had to track these people down. Ask them exactly how they managed to do what they did. Then I had to put a Memory Charm on them so they wouldn't remember doing it. If there's one thing I pride myself on, it's my Memory Charms. No, it's been a lot of work, Harry. It's not all book-signings and publicity photos, you know. You want fame, you have to be prepared for a long hard slog."

He banged the lids of his trunks shut and locked them.

"Let's see," he said. "I think that's everything. Yes. Only one thing left."

He pulled out his wand and turned on them.

"Awfully sorry, boys, but I'll have to put a Memory Charm on you now. Can't have you blabbing my secrets all over the place. I'd never sell another book…"

"Oh crap," thought Harry, remembering something that happened in the memory he hadn't even thought about.

Harry reached for his wand just in time. Lockhart had barely raised his, when Harry bellowed, "Expelliarmus!"

Lockhart was blasted backwards, falling over his trunk. His wand flew high into the air; Ron caught it, and flung it out of the open window.

"Well done, Potter," Severus smirked in amusement.

"Shouldn't have let Professor Snape teach us that one," Harry said furiously, kicking Lockhart's trunk aside. Lockhart was looking up at him, wary once more. Harry was still pointing his wand at him.

"Go figure― you would use my proper title when you were furious," Severus muttered, shaking his head. When Harry usually spoke about him with his friends, it was always Snape this, Snape that; never once before had he heard Harry Potter use his proper title until he’d come to Prince Manor. Well, he had been wrong, he had heard it now with his own ears, and it was rather funny seeing Lockhart intimidated by two twelve-year-olds. Although a furious Potter did sound weird; he had never heard Potter sound like that before, especially the way he said it: “shouldn't have let Professor Snape teach us that one,” and so he watched.

"What d'you want me to do?" Lockhart protested weakly. "I don't know where the Chamber of Secrets is. There's nothing I can do."

"You're in luck," Harry said, forcing Lockhart to his feet at wandpoint. "We think we know where it is. And what's inside it. Let's go."

"Very Slytherin, Potter," Severus said, smirking at the look of dread that flashed in Lockhart's beady eyes.

Then Severus suffered through Harry Potter politely taking to a dead female in the girl's bathroom, wondering when they would get a move on. The only thing he had taken an interest in was Lockhart's shaking form. It was a shame he hadn't been eaten by the bloody basilisk instead of being saved and sent to St. Mungo's, after all he had done. Memory Charms were illegal, unless you worked beside Ronald Weasley's father. They were legally allowed to use it to keep the Muggle world from finding out about magic, and that was it.

"Harry," Ron suggested, "Say something. Something in Parseltongue."

"But―" Harry broke off.

Severus looked at the older version curiously and asked for an explanation "I'd never been able to speak like a snake unless I saw a real one in front of me," he shrugged.

"Open up," he said.

"English," Ron said, shaking his head.

"Open up," Harry hissed.

The sink began moving; the sink, in fact, sank, right out of sight. It left a large pipe exposed, a pipe wide enough for a man to slide into.

"I'm going down there," Harry declared.

"Me too," Ron volunteered.

"Gryffindors," muttered Severus, rolling his eyes at the two twelve-year-olds.

"Well, you hardly seem to need me," Lockhart said with a shadow of a smile. "I'll just ―"

"You can go first," Ron snarled, causing Severus to raise an impressed eyebrow.

White-faced and wandless, Lockhart approached the opening.

"Boys," he said, his voice feeble, "Boys, what good will it do?"  
Harry jabbed him in the back with his wand. Lockhart slid his legs into the mouth of the pipe.

"I really don't think ―" he started to say, but Ron gave him a push, and he slid out of sight. Harry followed quickly. He lowered himself slowly into the pipe, then let go.

Instead of Severus and Harry having to follow, they appeared beside Harry in his own memory. They watched Ron come whizzing out of the pipe too.

"We must be miles under the school," Harry commented, his voice echoing in the black tunnel.

"Under the lake, probably," Ron said, squinting around at the dark, slimy walls.

"Lumos!" Harry muttered to his wand, and it lit again. "C'mon," he said to Ron and Lockhart, and off they went, their footsteps slapping loudly on the wet floor.

"Remember," Harry said quietly, as they walked cautiously forward, "Any sign of movement, close your eyes straight away…"

"Harry, there's something up there…" Ron said hoarsely.

Severus was busy looking around the legendary Chamber, a look of awe on his usually stoic features. Even if his attention did seem solely on the Chamber, he was listening to everything that was said, making sure not to miss anything.

"Maybe it's asleep," he breathed back at the other two.

"Blimey," Ron gasped weakly, and Severus was thinking the exact same thing for two reasons: snake skin was extremely valuable, and there was one twenty feet long sitting in front of him in a memory. Suddenly there was a commotion, and Lockhart had Ron's broken wand.

"The adventure ends here, boys!" he said. "I shall take a bit of this skin back up to the school, tell them I was too late to save the girl, and you two tragically lost your minds at the sight of her mangled body. Say goodbye to your memories! Obliviate!" he added in a shout.

The wand exploded with the force of a small bomb. Harry flung his arms over his head and ran, slipping over the coils of snake skin, out of the way of great chunks of tunnel ceiling which were thundering to the floor. The next moment he was standing alone, gazing at a solid wall of broken rock.

"Ron!" he shouted. "Are you okay? Ron!"

"I'm here!" Ron shouted back, his voice muffled through the rock. "I'm okay. This git's not, though ― he got blasted by the wand. What now?" Ron's voice sounded desperate. "We can't get through; it'll take ages…"

"Wait there," Harry called to Ron. "Wait with Lockhart. I'll go on. If I'm not back in an hour…"

There was silence for ages after that.

"I'll try and shift some of this rock," Ron said; he seemed to be trying to keep his voice steady. "So you can ― can get back through. And, Harry ―"

"See you in a bit," Harry said, trying to sound confident.

Both Severus and Harry followed the twelve-year-old into the heart of the Chamber; Severus seemed to be having the time of his life. It reminded Harry of his first time in Diagon Alley, unable to stop trying to look at everything all at once. He hid a smile, feeling very fond of his Potions teacher at that moment for reasons he didn't understand. Perhaps it was because he could see his Potions Master could feel, or because he, like everyone else, was curious and could be shocked. He didn't know he had been shocking his Potions teacher since he came to Prince Manor.

Harry still didn't realize he was calling Severus Snape HIS Potions Master. 

Severus watched the twelve-year-old shaking as he walked into the main Chamber; for the first time he realized the boy was probably scared.

"Ginny!" Harry muttered, sprinting to her and dropping to his knees. "Ginny! Don't be dead! Please don't be dead!" He flung his wand aside, grabbed Ginny's shoulders and turned her over. Her face was white as marble, and as cold, yet her eyes were closed, so she wasn't Petrified. But then she must be…

"Ginny, please wake up," Harry muttered desperately, shaking her. Ginny's head lolled hopelessly from side to side.

He saw the boy standing at the end of a very long, dimly lit chamber. Towering stone pillars entwined with more carved serpents rose to support the ceiling lost in darkness, casting long black shadows through the odd, greenish gloom that filled the place.

"She won't wake up," said a soft voice.

Severus froze on the spot; he remembered that voice before it had become lost to the hissing after too many dark rituals. The place had been too dark to see the figure properly, but there was no mistaking that voice, that was for certain.

"Tom ― Tom Riddle?"

Severus shook his head silently; obviously Harry Potter didn't realize who it was yet.

"What d'you mean, she won't wake?" Harry asked desperately "She's not ... she's not..." He was unable to form the sentence.

"She's still alive," Riddle said, "but only just."

"Are you a ghost?" Harry asked uncertainly.

"A Memory," Riddle said quietly, "preserved in a diary for fifty years."

Severus frowned; he had never in all his years heard of dark arts like that. So this wasn't Voldemort's spirit at all. This was another piece of himself, which meant there could be more diaries out there that could ensure his immortality.

"You've got to help me, Tom," Harry said, raising Ginny's head again. "We've got to get her out of here. There's a Basilisk… I don't know where it is, but it could be along any moment. Please, help me…"

"In a minute, actually," Harry sighed, watching his Pensieve-self begging Lord Voldemort for help, a frown evident on his features.

"Thanks," Harry said, stretching out his hand for his wand.

Harry shook his head silently, closing his eyes at the naiveté of his twelve-year-old self.

"Listen," Harry said urgently, his knees sagging with Ginny's dead weight, "we've got to go! If the Basilisk comes…"

"It won't come until it's called," Riddle said calmly.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked. "Look, give me my wand, I might need it."

"You won't be needing it," Tom said.

"What d'you mean, I won't be ―?"

"Idiot," Severus muttered, wondering how slow the boy was. Harry said he hadn't trusted Riddle since finding out about Hagrid; that obviously wasn't the case.

Harry just laughed wryly, agreeing with him, surprising the hell out of Severus.

"I've waited a long time for this, Harry Potter," Riddle said. "For a chance to see you. To speak to you."

"Look," Harry said, losing his patience, "I don't think you get it. We're in the Chamber of Secrets. We can talk later."

"We're going to talk now," Riddle declared, still smiling broadly as he pocketed Harry's wand.

Severus saw younger-Harry staring at Riddle and knew the light was finally beginning to dawn on him.

"How did Ginny get like this?" Harry asked finally.

"Well, that's an interesting question," Riddle said pleasantly. "And quite a long story. I suppose the real reason Ginny Weasley's like this is because she opened her heart and spilled all her secrets to an invisible stranger."

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked in exasperation.

"The diary," Riddle said, "My diary. Little Ginny's been writing in it for months and months, telling me all her pitiful worries and woes: how her brothers tease her, how she had to come to school with second-hand robes and books, how ―" Riddle's eyes glinted "―How she didn't think her famous, good, great Harry Potter would ever like her…"

All the time he spoke, Riddle's eyes never left Harry's face. There was an almost hungry look in them and Severus knew what that meant: someone was going to die soon.

"It was very boring, having to listen to the silly little troubles of an eleven-year-old girl," he went on. "But I was patient. I wrote back; I was sympathetic, I was kind. Ginny simply loved me. 'No one's ever understood me like you, Tom… I'm so glad I've got this diary to confide in… it's like having a friend I can carry around in my pocket'…" Riddle laughed and Severus almost shuddered in revulsion. No good ever came of Riddle's laugh, not even back then before he went totally nuts and started going after newborn children.

"I never understood how someone that good-looking could sound so evil," Harry grimaced.

"Tell me about it, Potter… in those days it was hard to say no to Tom Riddle," Severus admitted.

"If I do say so myself, Harry, I've always been able to charm the people I needed. So Ginny poured out her soul to me, and her soul happened to be exactly what I wanted. I grew stronger and stronger on a diet of her deepest fears, her darkest secrets. I grew powerful, far more powerful than little Miss Weasley. Powerful enough to start feeding Miss Weasley a few of my secrets, to start pouring my soul back into her…"

"What d'you mean?" Harry asked; his mouth had gone very dry.

"Haven't you guessed yet, Harry Potter?" Riddle asked softly. "Ginny Weasley opened the Chamber of Secrets. She strangled the school roosters and daubed threatening messages on the walls. She set the serpent of Slytherin on four Mudbloods, and the Squib's cat."

"No," whispered Harry.

"Yes," Riddle calmly said. "Of course, she didn't know what she was doing at first. It was very amusing. I wish you could have seen her new diary entries… far more interesting, they became… 'losing my memory. There are rooster feathers all over my robes and I don't know how they got there. Dear Tom, I can't remember what I did on the night of Halloween, but a cat was attacked and I've got paint on myself. I think he suspects me… there was another attack today; I'm going mad… think I'm the one attacking everyone, Tom!'"

"It took a very long time for stupid little Ginny to stop trusting her diary," Riddle said, "But she finally became suspicious and tried to dispose of it. And that's where you came in, Harry. You found it, and I couldn't have been more delighted. Of all the people who could have picked it up, it was you, the very person I was most anxious to meet…"

"And why did you want to meet me?" Harry asked, anger coursing through him, showing in those glowing emerald eyes.

"Well, you see, Ginny told me all about you, Harry," Riddle replied. "Your whole fascinating history." Riddle's eyes shot straight to his lightning bolt scar and his expression grew hungrier.

Harry shuddered in revulsion― that same hungry look had been in Voldemort's face in the graveyard. Severus was watching everyone and everything, and he even caught Harry's shudder before he concentrated on Tom Riddle and Harry Potter, the ghostly figures of the Pensieve memories.

"I knew I must find out more about you, talk to you, meet you if I could. So I decided to show you my famous capture of that great oaf, Hagrid, to gain your trust."

"Hagrid is my friend," Harry said, his voice now shaking. "And you framed him, didn't you? I thought you made a mistake, but ―"

Riddle laughed his high-pitched laugh again.

"It was my word against Hagrid's, Harry. Well, you can imagine how it looked to old Armando Dippet. On the one hand, Tom Riddle, poor but brilliant, parentless but so brave, school prefect, model student; on the other hand, big, blundering Hagrid, in trouble every other week, trying to raise werewolf cubs under his bed, sneaking off to the Forbidden Forest to wrestle trolls. But I admit even I was surprised at how well the plan worked. I thought someone must realise Hagrid couldn't possibly be the heir of Slytherin. It had taken me five whole years to find out everything I could about the Chamber of Secrets and discover the secret entrance… as though Hagrid had the brains, or the power!"

"I found it in a year, so take that," Harry sniffed, offended by Riddle’s pride in having found it in five years. Severus smirked, unable to stop himself at Harry's words; despite himself, he did feel proud of the teenager for his quick and smart thinking.

"Only the Transfiguration teacher, Dumbledore, seemed to think Hagrid was innocent. He persuaded Dippet to keep Hagrid here and train him as gamekeeper. Yes, I think Dumbledore might have guessed. Dumbledore never seemed to like me as much as the other teachers did…"

"Wonder why," Harry murmured sarcastically; Severus swallowed the laugh that wanted to come up despite the situation. Harry was rather funny when he wanted to be, especially with sarcasm.

"I bet Dumbledore saw right through you," Harry said, his teeth gritted.

"Well, he certainly kept an annoyingly close watch on me after Hagrid was expelled," Riddle carelessly said. "I knew it wouldn't be safe to open the Chamber again while I was still at school. But I wasn't going to waste those long years I'd spent searching for it. I decided to leave behind a diary, preserving my sixteen-year-old self in its pages, so that one day, with luck, I would be able to lead another in my footsteps, finish Salazar Slytherin's noble work."

"Well, you haven't finished it," Harry told him triumphantly "No one's died this time, not even the cat. In a few hours the Mandrake Draught will be ready, and everyone who was petrified will be all right again."

"Haven't I already told you," Riddle quietly said, "that killing Mudbloods doesn't matter to me anymore? For many months now, my new target has been... you. Imagine how angry I was when next time my diary opened, it was Ginny who was writing to me, not you. She saw you with the diary, you see, and panicked. What if you found out how to work it and I repeated all her secrets to you? What if, even worse, I told you who'd been strangling the roosters? So the foolish little brat waited until your dormitory was deserted and stole it back. But I knew what I must do. It was clear to me that you were on the trail of Slytherin's heir. From everything Ginny had told me about you, I knew you would go to any lengths to solve the mystery... particularly if one of your best friends was attacked. And Ginny had told me the whole school was buzzing because you could speak Parseltongue…"

Severus raised an eyebrow― so the boy had been manipulated again, this time by Voldemort instead of Dumbledore… funny how those two between them had almost seen Potter dead four times, directly or indirectly.

"So I made Ginny write her own farewell on the wall and come down here to wait. She struggled and cried and became very boring. But there isn't much life left in her: she put too much into the diary, into me. Enough to let me leave its pages at last. I have been waiting for you to appear since we arrived here. I knew you'd come. I have many questions for you, Harry Potter."

"Like what?" Harry spat nastily.

"Well," Riddle said, still smiling pleasantly, "How is it that a baby with no extraordinary magical talent managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time? How did you escape with nothing but a scar, while Lord Voldemort's powers were destroyed?"

There was an odd red gleam in Riddle's eyes now and Severus was watching intently. How did Tom Riddle know Voldemort wasn't killed? Just that his powers were destroyed… he knew something even at the age of sixteen. What had he done? How had he made that diary? He wanted answers― he hated mysteries almost as much as Potter apparently did.

"Why do you care how I escaped?" Harry slowly asked. "Voldemort was after your time."

"Voldemort," said Riddle, "is my past, present, and future, Harry Potter." Shimmering words were quickly traced through the air.

TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE

Tom waved the wand once and the letters rearranged themselves.

I AM LORD VOLDEMORT

"You see?" he whispered "It was a name I was already using at Hogwarts— to my most intimate friends only, of course. You think I was going to use my filthy Muggle father's name forever? I, in whose veins runs the blood of Salazar Slytherin himself, through my mother's side? I, keep the name of a foul common Muggle, who abandoned me even before I was born, just because he found out his wife was a witch? No, Harry. I fashioned myself a new name, a name I knew wizards everywhere would one day fear to speak, when I became the greatest sorcerer in the world!"

"I had forgotten," Harry said, almost to himself.

"What?" Severus frowned, glancing back at Harry instead of Riddle.

"That he had already told me all this; I forgot― he told me again in the Graveyard, only in more detail," Harry said, seemingly quite shocked.

Severus raised an eyebrow in amusement: of all things Potter could find to say it was that he had forgotten what the Dark Lord said.

"You're not," Harry contradicted, his voice full of hatred that Severus flinched at hearing. He had thought Potter hated him, well, it was nothing on his hatred for Voldemort. He had never heard Harry Potter speaking like that before in his life, and it was actually rather intimidating, especially with those green eyes of his. The power leaking off the teenager was awesome, and he was only going to end up more powerful as the years went by.

"Not what?" snapped Riddle.

"Not the greatest sorcerer in the world," Harry said, breathing fast "Sorry to disappoint you, and all that, but the greatest wizard in the world is Albus Dumbledore. Everyone says so. Even when you were strong, you didn't dare try and take over Hogwarts. Dumbledore saw through you when you were at school, and he still frightens you now, wherever you're hiding these days."

Severus snorted in great amusement; only Harry Potter would infuriate the darkest wizard in the world by mentioning Albus Dumbledore.

"Dumbledore has been driven out of this castle by the mere memory of me!" Riddle hissed, sounding more like his older self now.

Harry let out a great big bark of laughter. "Driven out not by you, but Lucius Malfoy more like," the fourteen-year-old snorted.

"He's not gone as you might think!" Harry retorted.

Severus frowned and gave Harry a pointed look.

"I was trying to scare him," admitted the fourteen-year-old, shrugging his shoulders. He wasn't looking at Severus, but away from the scene in front of him. Severus, frowning, followed Harry's line of vision, but nothing was there… then he heard it, then saw the flash of light as Fawkes did indeed come to Harry's aid.

"That's a phoenix…" Riddle said.

"Well done for stating the obvious," Harry muttered darkly.

"Fawkes," Harry breathed.

"And that's the old school Sorting Hat."

The laughter started up again, sending goosebumps up their necks and arms. "This is what Dumbledore sends his defender?! A songbird and an old hat! Do you feel brave, Harry Potter? Do you feel safe now?"

Harry never did answer.

"To business, Harry," Riddle said. "Twice ― in your past, in my future ― we have met. And twice I failed to kill you. How did you survive? Tell me everything. The longer you talk," he added softly, "the longer you stay alive."

Severus watched the scene curiously, wondering what the teenager would do: talk about his previous encounters with him or tell him to screw himself? He almost couldn't wait for the scene to play out in front of him.

"No one knows why you lost your powers when you attacked me," Harry said abruptly. "I don't know myself, but I do know why you couldn't kill me. Because my mother died to save me. My common, Muggle-born mother," he added, shaking with suppressed rage. "She stopped you from killing me, and I've seen the real you; I saw you last year. You're a wreck. You're barely alive. That's where all your power got you. You're in hiding. You're ugly; you're foul!"

"I'm impressed, Potter," Severus said; even at the age of twelve, he was always adamant his mother had had something to do with his surviving. So it wasn't a new thing then, remembering the conversations he'd had so far with the boy in Prince Manor. Harry had always believed his mother had saved him, and that it was nothing special he had done himself. Lily truly wasn't forgotten, and a warm glow settled in his stomach as he thought it out: not only Lily wasn't forgotten, she was still here in her son, the boy she had sacrificed herself for. The one she had begged him to save even if she had thought he was a Death Eater.

"So. Your mother died to save you. Yes, that's a powerful counter-charm. I can see now ― there is nothing special about you after all. I wondered, you see. Because there are strange likenesses between us, Harry Potter. Even you must have noticed. Both half-bloods, orphans, raised by Muggles. Probably the only Parselmouths to come to Hogwarts since the great Slytherin himself. We even look something alike… but after all, it was merely a lucky chance that saved you from me. That's all I wanted to know."

"Now, Harry, I'm going to teach you a little lesson. Let's match the powers of Lord Voldemort, heir of Salazar Slytherin, against the famous Harry Potter, and the best weapons Dumbledore can give him," Riddle said.

"Uh, do you know if basilisks can blind you in a Pensieve? If so, you'd best close your eyes," Harry said warily; then, "Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four," he translated as Voldemort hissed out the password in Parseltongue.

Severus watched, horror-struck, as the humongous serpent began going after Harry, watching as he fell, as the phoenix began attacking the Basilisk's eyes, stopping it from ever petrifying or killing anything again. Listening to Voldemort scream for the basilisk to leave the bird, to kill the boy, telling it to smell― not even screeching it in Parseltongue so he could understand it. Severus closed his eyes, his heartbeat shooting through the roof as he watched the twelve-year-old beg for help that would never come. He opened his eyes again and saw the boy had a sword in his hand, the sword of Godric Gryffindor, true to Harry's word. He was running wildly, a basilisk lunging at him every few seconds. He saw him raising the sword high above him, and it did indeed penetrate the basilisk's mouth. He also saw the fang sink into the vulnerable flesh of the twelve-year-old's upper arm.

Even dying, he was talking to a blasted bird. Severus held in the urge to laugh almost insanely. He certainly wouldn't be telling a bloody phoenix it was great when he lay dying in a pool of water with basilisk venom circulating through him.

"You're dead, Harry Potter," Riddle gloated. "Dead. Even Dumbledore's bird knows it. Do you see what he's doing, Potter? He's crying. I'm going to sit here and watch you die, Harry Potter; take your time. I'm in no hurry. So ends the famous Harry Potter," Riddle added, his voice now sounding distant. "Alone in the Chamber of Secrets, forsaken by his friends, defeated at last by the Dark Lord he so unwisely challenged. You'll be back with your dear Mudblood mother soon, Harry… she bought you twelve years of borrowed time… but Lord Voldemort got you in the end, as you knew he must."

"That's his downfall every time― talking to me, challenging me like that," Harry said, shaking his head in bitter amusement.

"Get away, bird!" Riddle's voice suddenly said. "Get away from him! I said, get away!"

Severus smirked; obviously Riddle had just realized what they could do.

"Phoenix tears…" Riddle quietly said. "Of course… healing powers… I forgot…"

He then looked back at Harry and said "But it makes no difference. In fact, I prefer it this way. Just you and me, Harry Potter… you and me…"

That was all Harry needed; he took the fang from the side of him where he had discarded it. With a snarl he brought it down against the dairy. Black ink began spilling out, Harry ignoring every scream Tom Riddle let loose. As quickly as he was there… he was gone.

All of a sudden they were back in Prince Manor, recovering from the abrupt exit from the Pensieve.

"That diary is dark as they come… I've never heard of anything like it before in my life. Will you excuse me? I have some reading to do," Severus said; his eyes narrowed as he frowned, deep in thought.

"May I come?" Harry asked hopefully.

Severus narrowed his eyes further and sighed. "As long as you don't even think about using the Dark Arts. I will be teaching you what I think you need to know for the upcoming battle. The Dark Arts are very seductive, Potter, and they will draw you in." There was a knowing glint in his eye, indicating that Severus knew what he was speaking about.

"I promise not to," Harry said softly.

"Very well; come," Severus abruptly gave his permission.

Harry was very curious now; obviously Severus feared the worst about the Diary. He hadn't thought much about it since he destroyed it. He was led to the library and through to a musty room concealed there; it was full of books concealed from the naked eye. Severus dug right in, and Harry followed suit not long after, wondering silently what they could be looking for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Jake and Jordre for editing :) 
> 
> I'm sorry if this chapter is confusing to you, I have no way of putting the bold on for it. Every time I try and put a chapter on Rich Text it joins together in one big massive word, and I don't have the time to undo every single word fit them into correct sentences/paragraphs and honestly it would take me hours. 
> 
> Some of this chapter is from the Chamber of Secrets book :) which I think most people are already aware of!


	17. Chapter 17

A New Place To Stay   
Chapter 17   
Nightmares, and Harry truly settles in at Prince Manor

Severus was tossing and turning under his black bedding, his duvet thrown off him. It was his own doing, as he was trapped in a vivid nightmare, one that he had been having for the past few nights. He kept seeing a small twelve-year-old begging for help, stuck down in the Chamber of Secrets. Only the nightmare continuously showed Harry dying, and him seeing Lily's devastated face over and over again. She kept telling him she was disappointed in him, then saying over and over again “you promised, you promised” in that awful monotone voice she had used after he called her a Mudblood when they were children. That one single word that had shattered his future, and cemented his fate as a Death Eater. As usual he woke up, a muted scream just about tearing forth; nightmares and night terrors he was used to. Seeing the things he had done during his Death Eater days, having experienced the Dementors just made them stronger and even more vivid. Pale and shaken, Severus used his wand to see the time before slumping back onto his bed. The black bed linen made him look even more sallow and sickly, if that were possible. He shuddered anew at his nightmare today, seeing a twelve-year-old being chased by a sixty foot Basilisk. A boy he had sworn to Dumbledore and Lily to protect at all costs, and yet it had happened under his very nose. What else had he missed? Why had he missed all the signs? Was he too wrapped up in his hatred for James Potter? He shuddered at the thought. He just wished he could have it out with Dumbledore, but if he did that, he had a feeling Dumbledore wouldn't let the boy come back. Which made him sneer at his own sentiments, but it couldn't be denied he was getting rather fond of the boy. He would deny that emphatically, even under torture of the Cruciatus curse.

Finally Severus got his heart rate back to normal, after twenty minutes of meditating. It was five o'clock in the morning; knowing he wouldn't get back to sleep, he got up. After a long luxurious shower, he left his room, already dressed. As he walked past Harry's room, he saw a light shining through the gap at the bottom of the door. Frowning in concern, he knocked on the door, but received no answer.

Opening the door, he peeked in; he saw Harry sitting reading a book. It was just past five-thirty― what on earth was the child doing up? He knew Harry was always up by seven and dressed.

"Potter, what on earth are you doing up?" Severus asked, his voice exasperated.

Harry whirred around, shocked; he hadn't even heard him coming in, which was unusual. He always knew when people were there, he was a light sleeper and even more alert when he was awake. It had been years since someone had been able to sneak up on him like that. He had to admit he didn't like it one bit. He noticed his Potions Master came further into the room with what could only be described as a concerned look on his face.

"Um… I just couldn't sleep," Harry admitted halfheartedly, already knowing Snape could sense the lie. He had been reading the Occlumency and Legilimency books his teacher had given him. He knew without a doubt now, that was how Snape could read him like an open book.

"Nightmares?" Severus questioned, sitting down on the side of the bed. Just seeing the child alive and well settled him like nothing else. He didn't know why these nightmares affected him so much, but he could only deduce that he felt as if he had failed. He had made a vow to protect Harry Potter, and the nightmares were proof he had been failing in his promise.

"Yes, sir," Harry eventually sighed, for the first time telling someone he was even having them. He was extremely glad his Potions Master wasn't mocking him. No; if anything he seemed even more concerned. Harry didn't know how he was able to read his teacher so well, but he could. His face might be emotionless, but his eyes, which were usually like black tunnels, glittered with concern. As much as Harry pushed the feelings aside, he felt extremely giddy that someone cared enough to ask him about it. Why he was up so early in the morning, and even knowing what he was going through.

"Do you want to talk about it before breakfast and your run?" Severus smoothly asked.

Harry shook his head; his Potions Master would probably just think him silly. Maybe even tell everyone just how pathetic he was, even if Snape had said he wouldn't tell anyone. Harry had no guarantee he would actually keep his promise; he was afraid to trust him too much, especially knowing that someone he was beginning to care about and open up to was probably going to revert back to his usual self the second Hogwarts started back up.

"It doesn't take a genius to figure out what they are about, Harry," Severus sighed, watching the teenager emotionlessly. "Having nightmares doesn't make you weak… it makes you human, just like everyone else."

"I'm not everyone else, though, am I?" Harry said bitterly, shaking his head.

"What you are, Harry, is a very strong, capable young man who has been through too much," Severus said smoothly; he silently cursed when he realized he was using Harry's proper name. He hadn't actually meant to use the boy’s first name. What got to him the most was that Harry's eyes were twinkling! Twinkling, just because he had used his name. Then again, the abuse Harry had suffered probably meant the child hadn't heard his name often from an adult... or at all. He wondered what it would be like to go eleven years hardly ever hearing your name. He shuddered at the thought; as abusive as his father had been, he had called him by name— even if a lot of other names had been added on. He suspected Harry had been called “freak” more than anything else in his short life. Severus had no idea he had hit the nail on the head.

"Nobody would understand…" Harry murmured eventually. Maybe Snape would; maybe he was the only one who actually could. Could he trust Snape and tell him what he needed to? Trust him not to go straight to Dumbledore with that information? He had to tell someone, he couldn't keep it in; he was scared, actually…he was afraid of feeling the visions like before.

"I'm sure you just feel that way," Severus agreed, arching an eyebrow in curiosity. True to Severus' word, Harry was slowly opening up, telling Severus things he hadn't told anyone else. Although, for the past few days, nothing else had been discussed about his years at Hogwarts. Harry had just let slip random pieces of information as they both settled into a routine.

"I saw the meeting you attended… before you came back that day you got me to clean the dungeons," Harry blurted, thinking perhaps if he said it quickly he wouldn't be able to lose his nerve. Even speaking as fast as he had been, he saw Severus' eyes widen in shock― he had obviously understood, all right.

"I see," said Severus, barely stopping himself from choking in shock and wincing in remembrance. He didn't like being reminded about his own failures; he had treated Harry horribly that day. The teenager hadn't deserved it at all, and he was doing his best, in his own way, to make up for that. Harry and Voldemort were more deeply connected than he thought. He suddenly realized he needed Harry to close off his mind, before he saw anything else. Before Voldemort realized the link was there; if he did, God help the boy. Voldemort would try his hardest to drive him insane, by making him witness unspeakable acts. He realized he needed to find out just how deeply they were connected.

Harry just watched his Potions Master warily, wondering if he had done the right thing.

"Sit over here, Mr. Potter," Severus directed, quickly drawing his wand. It was a testament to how much the teenager was coming to trust him that he did as he was told. Without a word of protest or even hesitation; a glow settled into his stomach at that. Nobody had trusted him unconditionally for a very long time, not since he and Lily had been children. It was a good thing really, as he was a spy, but it didn't make it any easier to be so isolated and distrusted by everyone.

He came out of his musings to see trusting green eyes staring back at him. Just seeing those eyes made his insides positively melt; those eyes truly would be the death of him, he was sure. "I'm going to perform Legilimency on you… I want you to relax and allow me to do this. I'm going to try to find this connection between you… Is there anything you wish to tell me before I do this?" Severus asked. Any information would help him in regards to finding out exactly where the connection was.

"I could feel the curses Vol… HE cast, not full-out, but sort of like echoes…" Harry was struggling to explain just what happened.

"How many times have you seen meetings?" Severus demanded, very worried now.

"Just the one; you were there, so was Lucius Malfoy…" Harry said, his voice trailing off.

"Indeed, then that must have been the only meeting he has had so far." Severus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had only attended one; it didn't mean there had only been one. Voldemort could concentrate on just one follower and call only that one. It wouldn't go over well if, during the day when he was teaching classes, Voldemort summoned him and he ended up falling in front of his class while clutching his arm. He was supposed to be Voldemort's spy, so thankfully he was given reprieves during the school year; any holiday, though, he was summoned like crazy. Thankfully he had only endured a year of it, spying, teaching, and going to Order meetings. He was not so thankful that Lily and Harry had had to pay the price, of course. Lily had died, and Harry? Why, Harry had lost his mother before he could even know her.

"Ligilemens," whispered Severus, sliding in past some actually adequate shields. They wouldn't keep him or the Dark Lord out, but it would stop the likes of Dumbledore from reading his thoughts. Dumbledore wouldn't chance delving deeper into someone's mind. The Dark Lord didn't have such restrictions, and right now he didn't either. He didn't concentrate on any memories; he just followed the strands of magic. There were only eight strands of magic, which meant Harry only cared about eight people in his life. He knew the black one represented Potter; the red and black one was no doubt Lily. The others were all different sizes and colours, which indicated how much he liked or loved them, and the colour told how he felt about them at present. Magic was a powerful thing; it bonded people together― not in the sense of marriage, but powerful wizards' magic sought out and tried to protect people they loved. Hence the strands he was looking at. He didn't know who they were for, but the black ones meant the magic wasn't there anymore; the other person was dead and no longer combined their magic.

For instance, Harry had lost his parents; even at an early age, his magic would have sought out his mother's and father's. It would have made him feel safe, even happy. When he lost them, and their magic was no longer there ― their strands went black. Lily's magic was still powerful, hence the red; the protection she offered her son was still alive and strong. No doubt some of those strands belonged to his friends, Granger and Weasley, perhaps even the female Weasley. Lupin and Black were a possibility as well; he was genuinely surprised more strands weren't there. He had always assumed the boy loved the entire Weasley clan. It was obvious he didn't know them well enough for his magic to seek them out. Severus himself only had two strands of magic that weren't black; those two represented his godson and Harry.

Harry's strands were his mother and father; both their strands were thick and obviously black, but Lily's had red intertwined with it. Remus had been his first connection to his parents, after spending an entire year with him during Patronus lessons. The strand for the man was very thin and barely there anymore. Ron's was there; it was thicker than Remus' and blue, a very cool and aloof colour, which basically meant Harry wasn't happy with his best friend, and that he didn't trust him anymore after what had happened during the last year. Hermione's was probably the second thickest, and was a very orange colour, which indicated he loved her, but didn't feel as strongly because he felt betrayed, due to the fact that she wasn't keeping in touch. Then there was a strand that was yellow, which was surprisingly Neville Longbottom. He cared for his fellow Gryffindor and felt a connection to him, as they had both lost their parents, thanks to Voldemort and the war. Neville's was almost as thick as Hermione's. The yellow indicated a kinship with the nervous boy, an understanding so deep that nothing could ever change the colour of it. The other was Sirius― it was barely there and faded almost to the point of disappearing. He had seen Sirius only two times, for less than an hour each time: during that Hogsmeade cave visit, and, of course, the day he’d let Pettigrew go. He had seen Sirius in the fire, but his magic couldn't exactly connect to that. Given the way Harry felt about Sirius at the moment, it was no surprise that the strand was faded almost to nothingness.

The last strand was the thickest and purest of the lot. It was a deep indigo, which indicated respect, trust, and a deep-seated need to impress. This was the colour that usually was associated with a mentor or close parent. This strand was reserved for Severus Snape, the one constant in Harry's life that had always been truthful to him, even if he was cold and usually harsh. Snape had never changed, and Harry had clung to that unknowingly. Before the summer, that strand had been lavender, which meant grudging respect and confusion. Harry had never been able to understand why Snape hated him, but now... why, now it was a deep indigo colour. If Snape had had any idea that strand was for him, he would have been surprised indeed. Fortunately, or unfortunately, those kind of connections couldn't be read.

Even further in there was a black and vivid green pulsating ball of magic intertwined with Harry's gold magic. Severus was actually seeing Harry's magical core; it shouldn't have surprised him to see the colour of Harry's powerful magic. He was, after all, the Dark Lord's equal and had been since he was a little boy. Severus knew that if Harry had been brought up in the wizarding world, his magic would have been beyond blinding. There was nothing he could do about the connection― it was literally tied to Harry's magic and thus his life. Severus had never seen anything like this before, and he had seen a lot, so that was saying something. He wasn't sure what it would do, or even if it would work, but he could try picking at it, to try to move it away from the magical core and contain it in a little box. Little by little, he succeeded in removing the green and black from Harry's magical core, until eventually he had it done. He wasn't sure how to get rid of it; it was like a living thing deep inside Harry. He would have to read about it before trying anything else. He had at least contained it; if it had been leeching Harry's magic, it wouldn't be able to do so anymore. Having done all he could for the moment, he began easing out of Harry's mind, past the strands of magic and past the memories.

When he was finally free of Harry's mind, he saw that both of them were gasping for breath. Both of them were sweating buckets and looking utterly exhausted ― it didn't help that both of them had not had enough sleep. Harry slumped down onto the bed, unable to stay upright at all, and to show such weakness was probably killing the green-eyed boy.

"Would you like some dreamless sleeping potion? Just a little, so you can sleep for a few hours?" Severus offered, hating how exhausted his voice felt and sounded.

Harry reluctantly nodded his head. He had been awake since three o'clock; the thought of sleeping without dreams was too much of a temptation for him even to think about saying no. He barely heard Severus summoning the potion and measuring some out into an empty container. There was only around a third of the potion in the vial he handed him. In a sign of trust he got under his covers, downed the potion and only had enough coherence left to put the empty vial on the table before his eyes closed on him.

Severus watched the teenager sleep for five minutes as his own magic replenished itself. His feelings had changed so rapidly he was still getting used to them. For the past four years he had hated this boy, or rather the insolent, spoiled brat the child portrayed to the world. This bloody Slytherin in lion's clothing had duped them all for years. Indeed, his respect for the child was rapidly rising. Shaking his head at his maudlin thoughts, as he liked to call them, he headed to his own room to lie down for a while. He didn't take dreamless sleeping potion unless he was alone, unless he knew he wouldn't be called or demanded to attend Order meetings. He would rather put up with any nightmare he had than drink it, he felt he deserved them all anyway. They represented a sort of penance for all he had done during his Death Eater days, his delusions of grandeur.

========= 

Both Severus and Harry ended up sleeping until eleven-thirty. 

"I've put on a whole stone!" Harry announced, coming in and sitting down at the table after having a shower and getting ready for lunch. He looked much better than he had this morning. Harry had indeed gained a lot of weight and built himself some more muscle. It helped that he already had a bit of muscle from Quidditch and, no doubt, the forced manual labour at the Dursleys'. Speaking of those rats, Severus had remembered to feed them a few times. He was surprised and disgusted that they were actually eating the food he had left for them. It was hamster food he had given them; he truly didn’t care whether they lived or died. They had harmed a wizard, a wizard he had sworn to protect. He was perfectly within his rights, given to him through his vow, to protect Harry this way. Really he was only doing his job; he had done darker deeds in the past to people less deserving than the Dursleys when he had been a Death Eater, during his darker years, before he had realized the damage he was doing. Then he had come to his senses and realized the Dark Lord was wrong, and had gone straight to Dumbledore.

That wasn't the only thing that had changed; Harry had stopped using “sir” or “Professor Snape” at the end of every sentence. Sure, he still said “sir” sometimes, when asked a direct question, but not as often as before. Something as simple as letting him brew potions with him and helping him with his research into the Diary had done wonders for the boy's self-esteem and had brought the boy out of his shell. It had only been three days, but they had flown; Harry was spending his time in the morning running, doing sit-ups, push-ups, and upper-body work, and, of course, a few chores. As Molly said, it didn't hurt him to do chores. In truth, Harry had begun doing it on his own, keeping an eye on his potion patch, as he had come to call it, watering the plants and pulling up weeds. In the afternoon Severus asked him to help with brewing potions, then dinner would commence; afterwards he would read. Not only through the Dark Arts books looking for his answer to the clue about the diary. No, he was also making sure the boy read about Defence Against the Dark Arts. He was up to the sixth-year Defence books; he hoped by the time Harry went back to Hogwarts, he would have finished the seventh-year ones. The house-elves usually tended to the fish in the pond Harry had created. They left the potion patch for Harry to do, though, as Severus had instructed them.

"Good," Severus said smoothly. It meant his plans were working; he had meant what he said, that nobody at Hogwarts would recognize the child. Harry was actually turning a very golden colour, no doubt from all the sun he was getting. He no longer looked as thin as a bloody stick; he knew without even having to look that the child probably had meat on his bones.

Harry wasn't quite the same boy he had known at Hogwarts, Severus couldn't help but muse; he wasn't even the same as he had been when he’d first come here to Prince Manor. He had relaxed, finally realizing that Severus wasn't going to hurt him or punish him for no reason. Severus had said rather harshly three days ago that he'd get detention, and that he didn't make a habit of hitting his students when he noticed Harry was petrified of making a single mistake during potions. The child had been taut as a bow; after he had spoken, though, he had relaxed. It wasn't only that, but Harry's true personality was shining through, or, as he liked to say, his Slytherin nature. Some of the things he was coming out with made him think of his Slytherins, so yes, he'd say with something pretty close to certainty that Harry was a true Slytherin in lion's clothing. He couldn't forget the things the nearly fifteen-year-old had said while they visited the Pensieve.

"Today we are going to learn some Defence; you have your wand, I presume?" Severus asked.

"Yes, sir!" Harry said, taking it out. Again the wand captured Severus' attention; there was something so… familiar about it.

Harry saw the look Severus gave the wand; it was confusion and irritation all in one go. Harry blinked cautiously; why was his teacher curious about his wand? He decided to let him in on a piece of information he hadn't told anyone else. It was becoming increasingly obvious he could trust Severus― this Severus maybe, if not the Snape he knew at school.

"It's the brother wand to Volde… HIS," explained Harry. He knew that saying the name caused pain to shoot through Snape’s Dark Mark. Hence why he was now avoiding saying Voldemort's name... when he remembered.

"I see," Severus said, his eyes gleaming in satisfaction― so that was where he had seen the bloody wand. One very similar belonged to the Dark Lord; it made sense, as they were equals. He knew he was going to have to tell the boy about the prophecy. He was holding off until Harry was at least able to throw him, Severus Snape, out of his mind. He hoped perhaps by the end of the summer would suffice. It was a lot to ask of a fourteen-, nearly fifteen-year-old, but if anyone could do it, it was Harry. After all, it had only taken him what, nine lessons? to produce a fully formed Patronus that most adults would be envious of.

"Now let's go," Severus gestured once they were finished with breakfast.

And so it was they found themselves outside, at the back of the humongous garden of Prince Manor. Harry was in front of a dummy; the weird thing about this dummy was it was animated ― life-like and moving. Harry just looked at it as if it were the weirdest thing he had ever seen, and that was saying a lot, because Harry had seen a great deal during his years at Hogwarts, too much, in fact.

"This is a animated trainer, such as they use to keep the Aurors fit. It's on a low setting for now… prove yourself, and it will go up," Severus informed him, keeping his voice as challenging as possible. He knew no better way to rile the boy up than by saying something like that; to his pride and satisfaction, Harry didn't rise to the bait. He just nodded calmly; his meditation must be coming along. It would take a lot out of him to do training as Severus planned; he might be fit for it physically, but not magically. It would take him a while to get into shape magically. He was hoping that by the end of the summer holidays, Harry would be fit magically, physically, and mentally for what was to come.

Severus wasn't a man who tolerated failure very well; for both their sakes he hoped he accomplished what he needed.

"So what do I do then? Just fire spells at it?" Harry asked curiously.

"Of course," Severus smirked sardonically.

"All right," Harry said, firing off the first spell. To his dismay, the bloody thing simply moved out of the way... and so the challenge was on. Severus moved out of the way, watching Harry's interactions with the trainer. His onyx eyes glittered with approval as he watched Harry and the dummy practise.

It surprised him, even though it shouldn't have, watching Harry's sharp skills at diving and firing off spells. Not only his agility, but his spell casting; he had only ever read about most of them, yet here he was, flinging spells from his wand as if he had years of experience, and wasn't just a novice with little experience and only four years of magical education. Pride was beginning to fill Severus; he was getting way too fond of Lily's child. He could not put his shields back up to protect himself and Harry without causing damage to the child. Whether Harry knew it or not, Severus knew Harry was beginning to rely on him. It would be hard not to; after all, he was probably the first person to ground him properly and tell him what he needed, the first to truly help him and let him confide in him. Severus was in trouble, and he knew it. However, while he was here, he could ignore the looming school year and concentrate on turning Harry Potter into a normal young wizard his Lily would be proud of. Not that she wouldn't have been proud of him anyway, but Harry Potter wouldn't have done half the things he had if Lily had been alive. Lily had a temper that had rivalled his own; she would have gone mental at her son. Harry would have felt flayed alive and never disobeyed his mother again, no doubt. A sad sigh left his lips― of course that would never happen. It was up to him now to stop Harry from doing anything else stupid. And he would be damned if there was any more nonsense like the Chamber happening again. Harry Potter wouldn't be doing any more reckless stunts this year, or going on any more save-the-bloody-school missions.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, Severus noticed that, though only twenty-five minutes in, Harry was getting exhausted; sweat was dropping off him like water. Despite his spell casting, he had yet to actually hit the trainer with a very good spell, a spell that would send the trainer down, unlike a tickling hex or the stunning spell that grazed its arm. Just as he was about to tell Harry to stop for the day, the boy caught the dummy straight in the stomach with the best Reducto curse Severus had ever seen. The spell was huge, not just your average spell; it had about twice the power of its normal magic. Not only that, but the dummy was actually blasted apart, something that shouldn't have happened at all. It was supposed to be indestructible; then again, nothing was ever right when it came to Harry Potter, he thought with a sardonic smirk.

"Crap," Harry gasped, wide-eyed, almost fearfully, driven to his knees in exhaustion.

"Language," Severus chided gently but firmly, letting Harry know he wasn't in trouble. Harry relaxed, knowing that he hadn't truly done anything wrong, that his teacher wasn't angry with him, and he wasn't about to be blasted like the dummy. "That was some damage, Potter; that dummy isn't supposed to be able to break. Some of the most powerful Aurors have tried… with no success." He had asked Shacklebolt for it two days ago, with this in mind, and Shacklebolt had told him about his and his friends’ attempts to destroy it. Then he'd proceeded to tell Severus just to keep it, that they had plenty of them in storage. Severus had made sure that Shacklebolt knew what he was doing with the dummy and to keep it quiet. Moody and Shacklebolt, he knew, wanted the boy trained; Moody and he might not see eye to eye most times, but they agreed when it mattered. He trusted Shacklebolt not to tell Dumbledore, and he had great mental defences, so Dumbledore couldn't just “accidentally” find out. He knew, because Kingsley was one of the few people in the Order he couldn't read. Dumbledore, Moody, Shacklebolt, and all the other Auror Order members could occlude. The others were useless; he could read every single one of their minds if they looked him in the eye. Thankfully though, most people couldn't meet his eyes; sometimes it was a gift, but it was a curse if he needed information.

"Nothing is normal about me," Harry said, bitterness crawling up his throat.

"Indeed," Severus agreed. "Reparo!" he then incanted. The dummy straightened itself back up; like a jigsaw puzzle it was mended back into shape seamlessly, as if it had never been broken. Nodding in satisfaction, Severus gestured to Harry to get back into the house. "Shower, dinner; then we talk," he instructed.

Harry just sighed in... irritation? Sadness? Wariness? He wasn't sure, but he had known it was coming, hoped his Potions Master would give him a break for longer. Tonight, no doubt, they were going to be talking about his third year. Harry did indeed go for a shower, wanting to practically crawl up the stairs instead of walking― but he was used to it, being exhausted... but for different reasons. This exhaustion was actually preferable; at least he wasn't in agony.

He knew he was being childish, taking his time; if it had been a week ago, he would have already been down there. He was getting too comfortable around Snape; he realized that, and it stunned him completely. He gulped, realizing he was acting like a teenager… he had never done that before. It was something the others had all done, but he'd never had the luxury to do anything like that. Wrapping the towel around himself after switching off the shower, he walked into his room, dried himself, and dressed in fresh clothes. His mind was still reeling; he felt normal… normal… not freakish or abnormal― that was an utterly new concept to him. Was this how Ron felt all the time? He couldn't afford to think like that. Snape was only looking after him because he'd been told to, he had to remind himself sternly. Even as he told himself that, his heart had different reactions. He never wanted to leave here, he had grown to love his room, the food, and the elves, the grounds, and his potions patch, and yes, even his Potions Master.

And that was what scared Harry the most out of everything in this world.

The indigo strand of magic turned red and indigo intertwined, as Harry's magic acknowledged that Harry actually liked―no, loved, Severus Snape like a father.

What could possibly only be termed as a miracle, was the fact that a severely stoic Potions Master felt just the same. His own strand of magic pulsated thicker, even bigger than the affection he held for Draco Malfoy, his own godson.

As Harry walked down the stairs, he thought about what Snape had said when he learned about his abuse. A half smirk, half smile twisted on his face as he went down the stairs.

"I know better now; I have helped many abused children over the years. From all houses, and all backgrounds; purebloods, half-bloods, and Muggle-borns. No one else was quite sure how to deal with them; I on the other hand was familiar with what they went through. I know I am probably the last person you want knowing about this, but know that I am here for you if you want to talk about it. You will talk about it before school starts back up, believe me, even if I have to force you. Be warned, though, I won't coddle you, pity you, or lie to you… I will listen, however, but that’s all; I'm not about to turn into Molly Weasley to help you. You have come this far, and I know now you are made of sterner stuff than anyone realises. However, everyone has his breaking point, and I'm afraid you have met yours, Potter."

Go figure; Severus would be right.

He didn't pity him, he didn't coddle him, and sure as hell he'd made him talk about it.

"Tell me about third year," Severus urged softly after they'd finished their dinner. He knew how deeply conflicted Harry felt. He didn’t want to talk about it, yet he also wanted to, to relieve himself of the burden. He wanted to hate Severus for making him talk about it, but he was probably unable to do so.

And so Harry spoke, his heart easing a little more with each word that escaped him. As they spoke their magic reached out, making their bond even more solid, the magical strands becoming much brighter and thicker without their knowledge. Just as magic had always done, for years and years, before these two people had even been born.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Jake and Jordre for editing this work


	18. Chapter 18

A New Place To Stay   
Chapter 18   
Confessions, Hurts, The Light Dawns, And Sirius' Strand Bites The Dust

"As much as I'd confess to doing the same thing at your age, when someone said anything about Lily… you cannot continue to let your anger get the better of you," Severus said, after listening to what a normal― or rather, what Harry’s summer before third year had been like: His fear that he would be expelled, finding Fudge at the Leaky Cauldron, Dumbledore never showing up despite the fact he was supposed to care.

"I know," Harry sighed sadly.

"When did things start going bad at Hogwarts?" Severus asked next. He was rather curious to know if Harry would confess to what he heard when Dementors got close. Harry didn't know that Remus had spilled his guts at the Order meeting. Severus didn't want to be the one to tell him; the teenager felt betrayed enough for some reason by his best friends and his godfather. That was probably what would tip the boy over, make his magic go out of control. Harry was a powerful and very emotional young wizard, and those two conditions didn't go hand-in-hand very well. In fact, it was an extremely volatile combination, at best― Marge Dursley was proof of that. Severus was somewhat surprised that Harry's magic hadn't defended him when his uncle was abusing him.

"Things were already bad," Harry admitted. "My friends were arguing all the time over their stupid pets. Then on the way to Hogwarts the Dementors boarded the train. I passed out… I could remember hearing a woman screaming, and Ron and Mione both said no one had screamed."

Severus swallowed sharply, his pale face going pasty white; he suddenly wanted to tell Harry not to say anymore. Knowing and hearing were too different things― he knew the scream had been Lily. Seeing her after she was dead had been hard enough. He had been the one to close Lily's lifeless eyes, the first to mourn her, well, er, the second, actually, as Harry had been first. After Hagrid got there, he had fled to Dumbledore to tell him what had happened. It was a good thing, all things considered, or he would have ended up in Azkaban for life. He would have killed Sirius Black as soon as he saw him, and damned if he would have listened to the bastard's excuses. He actually still blamed Black for what had happened; if he hadn't treated it like a game of cat and mouse, his Lily would still be alive.

"I was under the impression Lupin was on the train― wasn't it explained then?" asked Severus.

"He was actually in the compartment with us; he chased the Dementor away. I could never understand why they kept after me. It might have been the first time, but it wasn't the last. Anyway, he went away to 'speak to the driver.'" This was said with no small amount of scepticism. "He never did come back; no doubt he went and told all the teachers what happened." It didn't take a genius to realise Harry hadn't liked that.

"He did indeed," Severus confirmed; he wasn't going to lie to the boy, he had promised not to. He certainly wasn't going to lie for any of the Marauders. He might be a grown man, but damned if he was going to stick up for them.

"Up until the Quidditch match everyone was talking about me passing out behind my back. They thought I couldn't hear them, but when you live with the Dursleys, you learn to keep quiet and listen. Not that they could sneak up on me; only Petunia ever could, because she was so skinny and quieter than a mouse when she wanted to be," Harry groaned. "I guess getting a little taste of what Dementors are like at that match, being so close and all, they realised what it was like for me."

Severus said nothing about that, although he had to bite his lip― he so wanted to add that the Dementors hadn't affected anyone else other than make them freezing cold, cold enough to make all the students pee their pants in fear, never mind reliving their worst memories. He refrained from doing so, not wanting to distract Harry or stop him from talking.

"I guess you really knew I had been in Hogsmeade?" Harry asked; he knew his teacher, knew he wasn't stupid. Even back then Snape always knew, and Harry still hated that about him. Well, not hate, not anymore ― it was more like exasperation at knowing he couldn't lie to him. He respected Snape too much even to think about hating him. The day he’d showed Fudge the Dark Mark had let Harry know he was a spy. The vision he had seen had just made him realize it all the more. It was so strange for Harry; he had hated Snape for years, even knowing the black-clad man had saved him. Yet in the matter of what? a month? he respected the hell out of him and couldn't hate him. How could he? For Snape had treated him better than anyone ever had. Fed him, clothed him, kept a roof over his head, trained him, and didn't abuse him. He was in the presence of someone who understood him, and to Harry that was completely unfathomable. He hadn't expected it, but now that he had it, he didn't think he could live without it.

"Indeed I did," Severus acknowledged, a dark look on his face. Keeping Harry Potter safe had been a difficult thing that year. Especially when Black had managed to get into the castle. Regardless of what they knew now, back then Severus had thought Black was a danger to Harry.

"I had received a map from Fred and George… a map of the school. It showed everyone, everywhere… well, nearly everywhere, what they were doing every minute of every day," Harry hesitantly explained, wondering if he was going too far in revealing this. Moody had taken it, but he had nabbed it back before anyone else could confiscate it. He doubted Crouch would have mentioned it anyway, so it was safely tucked away in his trunk.

"I see," Severus said, his dark eyes glittering in an emotion or emotions Harry couldn't even begin to decipher.

"I later found out the map had belonged to my father and his three 'friends.'" The last word was sneered bitterly. "Padfoot, Prongs, Wormtail and Moony: Sirius, dad, Pettigrew and Lupin. That night you caught me, I had found someone on the map. Someone I thought I had known to be dead; I followed it, and the map... I thought it had malfunctioned. It was only later I realized it showed people even in their animagus forms or under Polyjuice potion," Harry sighed in agitation, wishing he had known then.

"I assume Lupin gave it back to you?" Severus said, shaking his head in dismay; that wasn't something a thirteen-year-old boy should have. No wonder he was able to get around the castle so well. With a map like that, and with an invisibility cloak to boot.

"He took me to his classroom that night after you caught me, telling me that wandering around the castle at night was a pretty poor way to repay my parents for their sacrifice," Harry whispered, his heart clenching painfully. After that he hadn't been as fond of Lupin as before, despite the continued Patronus lessons. He hated the way Lupin had implied that his parents had sacrificed their lives for him, as if it was his fault.

Tortured green eyes met black ones and Severus felt his iced-over heart clench painfully for the teenager. Lupin had hurt Harry with his words; even to this day it still hurt. He wondered if Lupin even had any idea― judging by the Order meeting and the proud proclamation, he didn't have nary an idea.

"Potter… Harry, I'm sure he didn't mean it the way it sounded. Yes, your parents did sacrifice themselves for you. They did not do anything any other parents wouldn't have. Molly and Arthur Weasley would have done it; even Lucius and Narcissa would have done it for their son. The only difference is, you survived when you shouldn't have. Somehow, between you and your mother you banished the Dark Lord from his body," Severus said, his voice laden with adamance and fury. Oh, how he wished he could lay into Remus Lupin for his words. The effect they'd had on Harry was obvious, and it infuriated him to no end. Harry Potter wasn't the first person to wander about Hogwarts when he shouldn't have. Hell, he and Lily had done it often enough, for goodness sake. They used to sneak up to the astronomy tower at night after curfew to get away from everyone. He might get furious with his students for doing it, but as a teacher he felt the need to do so. Slughorn had caught him and Lily often enough; it was just what a teacher had to do.

"No, it's not… there's something someone's not telling me about something. There had to be a reason why they were in hiding, there had to be a reason he wanted them dead so badly. Why he wanted me dead so badly. He didn't care about my parents, it was me he was after. There has to be a reason why he used my blood to return, despite my mother's blood protection," Harry scoffed, glaring at his teacher slightly as if daring him to lie.

Severus stiffened, his heart pounding a mile a minute; he hadn't realized Harry was so observant. He wondered idly if he himself had been that observant at fourteen years old. He didn't think so; he had only really had eyes for Lily even then. If this was how observant Harry was, it was no wonder he was so good at solving bloody riddles.

"You’re right; there was another reason for it," Severus conceded. Harry's eyes flashed with shock and indignation. "I shall tell you what I know of it, but only if and when you can finally block your mind," Severus swore. Perhaps that would nudge Harry in the right direction of wanting to close his mind. He knew what a temptation it would be to Harry to leave his mind open. Especially if he decided the pain of the "echo Crucios", as he had put it, was worth it to find out information. He would move mountains to ensure that wasn't what Harry decided.

"Why?" Harry asked, calming down slightly, willing to listen to what Severus had to say. To be told this was like a blow to his stomach; thinking it and having it said to be true were two different things. To have it confirmed in that quiet way was just shocking, to say the least.

"Because the Dark Lord isn't stupid… he could just get it from your mind. He doesn't care that it's illegal; Dumbledore no doubt reads surface thoughts, but doesn't go deep enough for his prying to be considered illegal. Both men would realize you know, and I cannot risk that, Potter," Severus said fiercely.

Breathing deeply, Harry considered how he would feel if their roles were reversed. It must be something pretty bad if Dumbledore didn't want him told. It must be even worse if Snape didn't want Voldemort finding out. Harry had no idea just how deep this thing went; by the time he did he would be too shocked for words. He would finally get the answers to the questions that had plagued him for four years.

"Alright, I'll do my best," Harry promised, and when he promised something, he tried his best to live up to it. He had promised Cedric to bring his body back and he had.

"Good; now tell me the rest about your third year," Severus said, glad to be safely away from that subject for now. He just hoped he could avoid it forever, but unfortunately he wouldn't. He knew at some point his past was going to come back to haunt him once more. Severus wanted to be the one to tell him; he'd rather be the one than have someone else telling Harry. Someone like Dumbledore... that thought horrified him, considering how much he realized Harry hated him.

"I soon realized what it was I was hearing when Dementors got close. I normally only heard my mum, but Dad cropped up a few times. There was the sound of a door, no doubt being blown off its hinges, and Dad told Mum to take me and run. A few seconds after that my dad's body hit the floor; my mum was screaming for him. She couldn't get out; there was the sound of a door closing, then another blast. He kept telling my mum to move aside, calling her a filthy little 'Mudblood;' she just kept telling him to take her and let me live," Harry choked out. He had never, ever told anyone exactly what had happened, or what he remembered. Not even his best friends knew; they just knew he heard his mother, and that was it. "In the end he got angry and killed her, then he turned his wand on me― that's as much as I remember from when Dementors get close… I don't understand what draws them to me so much!" he cried out in anger.

"You are very powerful and very emotional; Dementors feed on that. They feed on your powers and your emotions; since you have a lot of both, no doubt you were like a feast to them," Severus honestly explained.

"Dumbledore's more powerful than me… so why go after me?" Harry cried in disbelief.

"Dumbledore is powerful, yes, but the older a wizard gets, the less powerful they are. Plus Dumbledore is good at blocking his thoughts and emotions so Dementors cannot feel them," Severus said; he decided on not telling Harry that he was more powerful than Dumbledore, that he had been more powerful at one year and three months old than the old fool had ever been. That he had been the Dark Lord's equal at that age, too. No, there was no need to scare the bejeebers out of the teenager. He didn't want to have to tell Harry until he was left with no other option.

Harry grudgingly nodded, conceding the notion.

"Why did you believe Black when he told you he hadn't killed your parents?" Severus asked. That had always bothered him; yes, even a year onwards it still bothered him.

"At first I thought he had… after dragging Ron into the Shrieking Shack. Then Professor Lupin came; now Sirius might have been insane, but I found it hard to believe both of them were. Even when Hermione blurted out that he was a werewolf, it didn't bother me. I had seen Pettigrew on the map and I just… believed it, especially after Remus gave us our wands back. I am sorry I, er, knocked you out… you… I didn't expect the others to disarm you too," Harry said regretfully. Well, now he was; he had to admit that at the time he hadn't cared much. "I just wish you had been awake to see Pettigrew… maybe then we might have been believed. I've always wondered why Dumbledore believed us so quickly. I guess I have my answer now: he could read our minds."

"Just how did you manage to get Black away from Hogwarts?" Severus asked. That too had been a constant nag on his mind for the past year. He knew they had done it, just as he knew the other things they had done. Or rather suspected they had done― he too did not outright read their memories, just their surface thoughts.

"Dumbledore sent us, as in me and Mione, back in time three hours… to save Buckbeak and Sirius," Harry confessed; his heart, back, and shoulders felt so light, as if he had been carrying around an invisible burden on his back for years and was just realizing it.

If Severus had been holding anything, it would have smashed into a million pieces. He was furious, not because he had been tricked or because Black had gotten away. No, he was furious with Dumbledore for recklessly endangering two of his students' lives. He knew Dumbledore could become invisible, and he could have got Black to safety with no problem. Better yet, he could have done it himself instead of sending two thirteen-year-olds to do it.

"Where the hell did you get a time-turner?" Severus asked, grasping at straws.

"Mione had one, she had too many classes― she had taken all of the electives," Harry explained. "She was attending two classes at a time, confusing us to how she kept appearing out of nowhere and insisting she was there the entire time, when we knew she hadn't been."

Severus shook his head in dismay. McGonagall and Dumbledore had allowed a thirteen-year-old to play with time for the frivolous excuse of taking more classes. He thought they had trusted him; well, it was obvious that wasn't the case. How could they have risked a thirteen-year-old girl's sanity that way? It was diabolical, in Severus' book. "So what happened then?" he asked, getting back on topic. This was when Harry was supposed to be speaking to him. Not him sitting thinking on other things; once he got to his bed, then he would think on things.

"We went back, went down to Hagrid's hut; I must admit I did want to go in and grab Pettigrew before the whole mess could begin. Mione explained everything to me why I couldn't, and I just basically gave in. Did what was expected of Dumbledore's Golden Boy. Rescued Buckbeak, saved myself and Sirius from getting the Dementors' kiss. It was the first time I had used my Patronus against so many, and I succeeded. I drove away hundreds of Dementors that night, hopped on Buckbeak, and waited for the show to go down. Rescued Sirius, and ran back to the hospital wing with Hermione just in time for time to restore itself," Harry explained.

"How did it make you feel?" Severus asked, arching an eyebrow.

"What make me feel?" Harry asked, cocking his head to the side.

"Rescuing your godfather." 

"All I felt was irony; he was supposed to save me, not the other way around. He is the godfather, after all, isn't he? That is his job? He's supposed to protect me, right?" Harry asked, sounding very young and vulnerable.

"Indeed he was," Severus smoothly agreed. "When he was gone, what did you think then?" He suspected that he was sounding more and more like a bloody shrink.

"Sadness, not for Sirius but… but for… well… my godfather… my chance of getting away from the Dursleys," Harry said, agitation crossing his face as he tried to explain how he'd felt.

"Perfectly understandable; did you keep in touch a lot?" Severus asked impassively. Nothing in his features gave away his dislike for their current conversation, but he wanted information. He was digging for information on the relationship between Harry and Black.

"Er, sometimes I got a few letters… but I might as well have just sent mine to Dumbledore," Harry shrugged indifferently.

Severus' eyebrows rose high at that; okay, whatever he had expected, it hadn't been that. "What makes you think he told Dumbledore?" he finally asked after getting his shock under control.

"He started with 'Dumbledore thinks' a few times," Harry replied, his lip curling in disgust. He hated the fact that his godfather didn't seem to be able to think for himself. It was always “Dumbledore this,” or “Dumbledore that;” suddenly Harry went cold all over as he came to a startling realisation. The strand he had for Sirius Black sizzled and died; only seven strands now remained.

Harry shook his head in shock; he remembered his conversation with Sirius. How he had said Snape had only been friends with Death Eaters. He had lied to him. Bare-faced, he had lied to him; and Sirius had never told him anything about his mother. It was no wonder; he knew Sirius, Severus, his dad, and his mum couldn't have all been friends with each other. So it must have only been Severus and his mum for goodness knows how long. Sirius had knowingly lied to him, and that, in Harry's book, was unforgivable.

There was nothing Harry hated more than liars; he had put up with the Dursleys' lies for ten years, the worst lies a child could believe, especially about his parents.

"…Harry…. Harry!" repeated Severus, quite concerned by the lack of life in his eyes. He was even more worried when he saw raw hatred flash in those expressive green eyes.

"Yes?" Harry asked, shaking his head as if to clear the cobwebs and thoughts away.

"What were you just thinking about?" Severus demanded. Harry's meditation was coming along; as angry as the child had been, he hadn't been able to glean a single thought from his mind. Nor had the boy's magic flared up; now, if he could understand what had made the anger occur, he could gauge how far along he truly was.

"It doesn't matter," Harry told him; his voice and eyes looked and sounded exhausted.

"It does, Harry… you have been occluding despite your obvious anger. If I can determine just how tight a rein you have on it, you might be ready for the next step—which usually takes quite a while. You do not have to tell me everything," Severus conceded, realizing he might be asking a bit too much from Harry, especially so soon. Especially after taunting and sneering at the teenager for four years.

"I hate liars more than anything else in the world after what the Dursleys did to me. I've just realized that Sirius lied to me too, that's all," Harry said emotionlessly.

"I see," Severus responded, swallowing sharply while trying to digest that.

"May I go to bed, Professor? I'm exhausted," Harry asked quietly and hesitantly. He wasn't using it as an excuse to get away, he truly was exhausted, magically, emotionally, and physically.

"Very well; we shall practice the beginning of Occlumency another night," Severus allowed, looking the teenager over. "Would you like a dreamless sleeping potion?"

"No, I'm okay; thank you, though…" Harry said. “Nobody's ever cared enough to ask before, so thank you,” he thought as he walked to the door. Just as he was leaving he whispered a “Goodnight” to his professor before he all but crawled up the stairs and slid into his bed, barely managing to stay awake long enough to get his pyjamas on.

Severus sat there for what felt like hours, digesting everything he had learned. Dumbledore had yet again surprised Severus, and he thought he had known everything. He thought he couldn't be surprised by Dumbledore's actions anymore, especially after he had learned that Dumbledore knew how Harry was treated at the Dursleys' house― he couldn't very well call it a home. Thanks to the lemon-drop-eating bastard, Harry had never had that liberty. His thoughts didn't stay there for long; he ended up going to the kitchen to down a few shots of fire whiskey. Then his thoughts turned to Lily, and everything Harry had said. The Dark Lord had made an attempt to keep his promise; he couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if he had. Would Harry still have survived and had a mother to raise him? Would he have ended up with her? Could Harry have grown up with him as a stepfather? He shook those thoughts off bitterly; he and Malfoy were to blame for what had happened. Lily would never have forgiven him for his actions. It was his and Malfoy's fault that they had been targeted. They had given Voldemort the prophecy, or what they had heard of it, anyway. He only wished he had Obliviated Malfoy and himself, but he couldn't regret it completely. It was what had brought him back; it was what had spurred his attempt for redemption. It was probably what had caused Severus to think perhaps Lily could forgive him. In the end, he had turned his back on the darkness and returned to the light. He liked to think Lily was proud of him, of his decisions to spy. He hoped he could one day speak to her and find out for sure.

“I hope you can forgive me for what I've done,” he thought as he went to his own bed. He wasn't sure who he was aiming that at― it could be the mother or her son. Could be both; either way, that time was fast approaching. Severus would soon know just how Harry would react; he could and would be able to shut his mind off to intrusion, just like every other time Harry put his magic and will into it. Putting his mind, magic, and will into any task, Harry could do anything, just like the time he had conjured a Patronus after only a few lessons.

Despite the things on his mind, Severus slipped quite easily to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to Jordre and Jake for editing this :D


	19. Chapter 19

A New Place To Stay   
Chapter 19   
Professor Snape… I think I've found it! 

The next few weeks were busy, to say the least; Harry was now very advanced in his magic. He was able to throw Severus out after a few seconds; Severus was seeing fewer and fewer memories each and every single time they performed the spell. Not only that, but Harry had learned the entire sixth-year curriculum and was well on towards his seventh year in Defence. He was only starting his sixth year in potions, as Severus hadn't asked him to brew a lot. In all honesty, Defence was more important; Severus preferred to do his brewing when Harry was sleeping or reading. As much as he wanted to test how far Harry could go in the subject, Potions was his thing and he preferred brewing alone and in peace most of the time anyway. Other times he invited the child down to brew with him, letting him brew the easier potions for the hospital wing. It got them done in twice the time it usually did, so really it was easiest. He would never admit it, but he rather liked having someone with him sometimes; it was less… lonely.

Right now he was brewing Lupin's Wolfsbane potion, and Harry had been instructed not to call on him unless Dementors were hot on his tail. Well, that wasn’t what he had said, but it was what he had meant to say. He wasn't anywhere near as nasty as he should be, and it was going to kill him when they returned to Hogwarts― he knew it. Perhaps Harry might understand the position he was in and not take it too seriously. He knew, though, that abused children would just accept the words and add them to the long list of things they had already been called. Perhaps detentions could take on a whole new meaning; he realized how far he had sunk when he thought this. He truly had come to care for Lily's son; the heart he had thought completely frozen was thawing out. That wasn't a good thing for a spy, nor was it a good thing for Harry, either. He should stop before it got too far, but he was damned because he knew he wouldn't stop. Not while he knew the teenager needed him, and Harry did. He had no one else; he now knew the boy didn't trust Dumbledore, Lupin, or Black, come to that, the three people he thought Harry could turn to when he had been just “Potter” to Severus. Black had never been reliable; he had wrongfully assumed that he was cared for in his Muggle home as well. It seemed every adult in Harry's life had continuously let him down in every way. He feared his secrets would let Harry down as well, but there was nothing to be done about it. Harry needed his help, and his help he would give... for as long as Harry allowed him to. He was able to think all this while brewing the potion. He could brew all the potions he routinely made in his sleep; they were all second nature to him now.

Finally the potion was put aside, to stand for twenty-four hours― he had been down here for three hours already. Once he was finished clearing everything away he went to find Harry, curious to know what he was doing. He had done his morning run and his two-hour training with the dummy, and had eaten his lunch; it was now four o'clock, two hours until dinner. He first went up to Harry's room, which was, of course, spotless as usual, apart from the odd book and paper lying around.

Harry wasn't there; frowning, Severus knew this was where Harry usually was at this time of day. His next step was to check the library, but it was vacant. A few books were missing; he knew he would find the boy in the private study. Private, meaning that the Floo network wasn't connected to the fireplace there. He didn't like Harry’s being in the other study, where the network was open. Callers couldn't Floo through, but they could still see into his study. Lucius knew his Floo address, and he didn't want to risk it; Voldemort would know within the hour if Lucius saw even a hint of Harry Potter.

Severus entered the private study and found the boy there, but Harry didn't even twitch. He was staring at the book in his hands, a look of horror on his face. Severus wondered, alarmed, if he had been wrong in letting Harry read the Dark Arts books he had in his collection. Walking over he sat down next to the boy and asked, "Harry, are you all right?"

"Professor… I think I've found it…" was all the horrified teenager could say.

Even more alarmed, he took the book from Harry's seemingly numb hands. He began reading it, and horror of his own began etching across his face. Horcruxes… the Dark Lord had created Horcruxes. He suddenly felt very sick.

"He was seventeen when he started… seventeen," Harry croaked.

Severus just sat there, mute, knowing Harry was right; in the diary version of Tom Riddle, the Head Boy badge had been clearly visible. He read through absolutely everything about them, and felt utterly rocked to the core. There was no doubt this was what they had been looking for.

He didn't need to ask Harry why he was so shocked, there was a world of difference between Myrtle’s being killed by the basilisk and outright killing someone to make such a horrific thing. The Horcrux was more horrifying than the fact that a schoolgirl had died.

"He told everyone that night in the graveyard that he had done things to ensure his survival… to stop himself being able to die," Harry remarked, his voice going a little more normal. The colour seemed to be coming back to his face, as the mind-numbing horror wore off a little.

"Do you need a calming draught?" Severus asked, placing a long hand on Harry's shoulder― his only way of being able to show Harry comfort. He wasn't used to giving comfort to others; he hadn't done such a thing since Lily had been in his life.

Harry shook his head; no, he didn't need a calming draught, or at least he didn't think so. However, Dumbledore's words from his second year rang in his ears, making him begin hyperventilating. His world spun alarmingly, and he was too shocked even to feel Severus grabbing him in alarm, summoning a calming draught, and with great difficulty giving it to the teenager. Severus stared at him in concern― what had the boy been thinking? What had made him begin hyperventilating like that? Not even the concept of the Horcrux had made him react so severely. While the potion started doing its job, Severus began rubbing Harry's back soothingly; they were both on the floor by now. He was hoping the contact would help bring Harry out of his shock more quickly, give him something to focus on instead of his obviously very chilling thoughts. Harry's erratic breathing soon calmed down, into a fairly normal rhythm. After five minutes of silence, Severus stopped rubbing Harry's back and asked the only question on his mind.

"What was that all about?"

"I'm one," Harry said, his voice flat and devoid of any emotion.

"You can speak Parseltongue, Harry," Dumbledore had said calmly, "Because Lord Voldemort ― who is the last remaining descendent of Salazar Slytherin ― can speak Parseltongue. Unless I'm very much mistaken, he transferred some of his own powers to you the night he gave you that scar. Not something he intended to do, I'm sure…" 

"Voldemort put a bit of himself in me?" Harry remembered asking, thunderstruck. 

"It certainly seems so," Dumbledore had replied. 

"Excuse me?" Severus asked, his eyes wide; his voice, though, was exactly as it usually was. It took a lot of will-power, but if anyone could keep outwardly calm in almost every situation, it was he. He didn't even want to think Harry might be right; he wanted to think he had misunderstood what Harry meant.

"Dumbledore…" Here Harry chuckled weakly, almost heartbreakingly so. "Dumbledore told me Volde… he transferred some of his powers to me. Then I asked him if he had transferred a bit of himself into me, and he said it certainly seemed so…"

"Impossible... he can't know…" Severus immediately denied.

Harry just gave Severus a tired, sceptical look as if his professor had lost the plot. He couldn't decide if his teacher truly thought that, or if he was clutching at straws. Harry wondered if he had accepted the fact there was a piece of Voldemort in him or if the calming potion was working really well. He was good at accepting things, especially bad things, when they happened. It was when something good happened that it sort of threw him for a loop. So many bad things had happened to him in his fourteen years of life that it was easier to accept that. He could count how many good things had happened on one hand, at the end of the day.

Severus, though, could have done with two doses of calming draught. His thoughts and feelings were going haywire; he couldn't believe this was happening. Harry couldn't be a Horcrux; he just couldn't, not after his getting attached to the child. His heart was beating two hundred beats a minute. Then he remembered the strange pulsating ball of magic and his heart sank out of his chest and down out his arse. He knew there and then that it was true. Harry was right; he was a Horcrux, and Dumbledore had known. If he thought he had felt betrayed before, it was nothing to the way he felt now. He had sworn an oath to protect Harry, yet Dumbledore had kept something of this magnitude from him. It made him realize just how un-trusted he was by the old fool, despite proving himself over and over again.

"I will remove it, Harry, I promise," Severus said with conviction that startled even him.

Harry smiled slightly; he knew if there was anyone he could trust to try, it would be Severus Snape. Life was funny, at least to him anyway― who would have thought he'd trust Snape with his life and trust that he would help him? Last year if anyone had said this to him, he would have laughed in his face, and right now he would have had to take that back. It was nice to know someone really cared about him, about his wellbeing. Everything Harry had done during these weeks at Prince Manor let him know this. He had put on nearly a stone and a half; not only that, but his muscle mass was also becoming even more noticeable, especially when he was wearing t-shirts. Despite the grim news, Harry positively melted inside; here was the irrevocable proof that someone loved him.

It had been staring him in the face for weeks, and he was only realizing it now.

"Thank you," Harry said tiredly. Everything was falling in on itself. He would never have believed that at the age of twelve Dumbledore would have told him the truth, and he had passed it off. No doubt that had been what Dumbledore wanted him to do, until the time came.

-0-

"Severus?" the voice of Albus Dumbledore boomed; his head was floating around Prince Manor's Floo system. Severus was already aware that someone was floo'ing him, he controlled the wards, after all. He stalked through the halls and into the study briskly, his face showing nothing. He was furious with Albus Dumbledore, but didn't show it ― it wouldn't do any good, after all. Not if he wanted Harry to come here next summer to train, and so he could try to remove the Horcrux. He didn't think he would manage to find something to remove it, not this summer anyway― not with everything else he had going on. Severus was a very practical man and knew his own limits; between training Harry, getting the potions for the hospital wing ready, Order meetings and, of course, Death Eater meetings― not to forget completing his lesson plans as well ―he was extremely busy.

"Yes?" Severus asked, coolly stepping up to the fire and arching an eyebrow.

"Bring Harry to Grimmauld Place," Dumbledore simply directed.

"Why?" Severus asked, his eyebrow going up even further.

"He shall remain there for the rest of the summer," Dumbledore replied.

"Fine; when shall I bring the brat?" Severus asked, feigning indifference.

"Tonight, eight PM," Dumbledore specified.

"Very well, is there anything else?" Severus sighed, his agitation not an act.

"No," Dumbledore said, quite happy now he had delivered his news, and as quickly as he had come, he was gone.

Severus left the study and walked up to Harry's room. It had been almost twenty-four hours since they had found out about Harry’s being a Horcrux. He knew it was time to tell Harry what he knew; otherwise the boy might think he was going back on his word and try to get information the only way he could ― through the visions.

Knocking on the door, he waited until Harry said “come in” before entering. Through the Occlumency lessons he knew how Harry valued privacy, and how much he liked the room he had been given. After being stuck in a cupboard for ten years, then given nothing more than a mattress and broken rickety furniture to lie on and use, it was no wonder really. He wondered if Harry was anywhere near ready to be back in the hands of those he was angry with.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, seeing his teacher's tense stance. He knew he was going to be told something he wouldn't like.

"Sit down," Severus said after a few seconds of silence.

Blinking, he did as he was told without even needing to think.

"Dumbledore has demanded you go to Grimmauld Place for the remainder of the summer," Severus explained; if his frown was anything to go by, he wasn't happy with that information either.

"Oh," Harry said, his heart sinking. He really loved it here. Dumbledore didn't know that, yet still he managed to screw his life up. He was really beginning to loathe Dumbledore with every iota of his being.

"It's time you knew everything; your Occlumency has come along very well, and I'm pleased with your progress," Severus told him. He didn't praise lightly, so Harry knew he truly was pleased.

"Thank you!" Harry said grinning softly; nobody had ever praised his work before. Well, a few of his teachers had said, “Well done, Potter,” or “three points to Gryffindor, Potter,” but that was it, really. And they praised everyone, not just him. Severus' attention was solely for him, and he wasn't just saying it in a classroom full of students. Nobody had ever checked his work over before to make sure it was all right and praised that either, until Severus. Wasn't that what fathers did with their children? He wasn't sure; he hadn't been given any good examples. Vernon Dursley wasn't what you could call a proper father― he allowed his son to get to the size of a large walrus... or maybe an elephant― it was hard to compare, really, when he hadn't seen either animal before in his life.

Severus wondered silently if this would be the last grin to come his way. He prayed to Lily that Harry would forgive him for what he had done. Taking a deep breath, he took Harry back to a time before his birth, before anyone even knew Lily Potter was pregnant. Hell, Lily had just married Potter, never mind anything else.

"Let me take you back to the year 1979; I was nineteen years old, and no doubt you can deduce that so were your parents and Black. You also know that I willingly joined the Dark Lord years before. I had also just passed my mastery in Potions, and the Dark Lord wanted me to approach Dumbledore and become a teacher… a spy for him. I was… at the time eager to prove myself to him. When I first met Voldemort he wasn't quite as… horrendous looking. You see, Harry, my father was an abusive bastard and loved beating on me and my mother. As much as I loved my mother, I also hated her for not standing up to him, not leaving him. She was a witch; she could have overpowered him in a matter of seconds. My childhood was very lonely, until I met your mother when I was eight years old. Those three years before attending Hogwarts were probably the best in my life. Lily was sorted into Gryffindor, but I was sorted into Slytherin… our friendship somehow managed to survive the different houses and the fact that our housemates were doing everything in their power to separate us." Severus hadn't meant to go into all this but he wanted Harry to understand so badly, not to react the way he feared Harry would react when he found out the news.

Harry listened intently, soaking up any new information he could get from his Potions Master, especially regarding his parents; so much had been kept from him. Black had lied about his mum, and Harry wouldn't forgive him for that. Even if back then he would have been furious and confused as to why his mother had befriended Snape, he would still have liked to have known.

"Nothing the Marauders had done truly bothered me, up until our fifth year. I ended up calling your mother a rather nasty name for Muggle-borns... I'm afraid our friendship was never the same after that. I sank further into the Dark Arts and Potions. I befriended boys from Slytherin, which your mother wasn't happy about. They too, like me, loved the Dark Arts, and before long they started telling me of a man who held awesome power, and a group of people who wanted the wizarding world kept from all Muggles. Because of my own upbringing I agreed with that; it was at the end of my sixth year that I decided I'd do it. Black had sent me down to the Shrieking Shack one night of the full moon…"

Harry gasped, his green eyes going impossibly wide; surprisingly, really, there was no betrayal there, just shock and worry. The weirdest thing of all … there was sympathy and understanding. Of course the memory of what had happened during Harry's third year was no doubt still there― and they had been a lot younger than he had been.

"Your father somehow found out what Black had done, and decided to be the idiotic Gryffindor he was and… rescue me." The words were so damn hard to get out. He shuddered at the thought; rescue― he wouldn't have needed to be rescued if it wasn't for Black in the first place.

Harry shuddered himself; the thought of Draco Malfoy rescuing him was enough to make him sick to his stomach.

"That, I'm afraid, took me on my dark road; I formally joined Voldemort a year later. He was very pleased to have a Potions Master in his ranks; at the time I was honoured that he would consider allowing me… a half-blood... into his circle. How stupid I was not to realize just who he was. I'm getting away from myself; I followed Dumbledore to the Hog's Head, where his brother Aberforth works as a barkeeper."

"He has a brother?" Harry gasped in frank astonishment.

"He does indeed, he looks a lot like him as well. I wasn't alone; Lucius Malfoy was with me. I managed to get closer to the room Dumbledore was in than Lucius, who was thrown out first. I only wish the same could have been said for myself," Severus sadly sighed; here it came― Harry was finally learning the truth of why his parents were killed.

Harry's breath was caught in his throat; he had never heard his teacher sound so… heartbroken before. Whatever he was about to be told was very grim indeed, perhaps even life-altering. His heartbeat picked up again, but he kept his breath as even as possible, something he had learned long ago to do. Nobody at Hogwarts knew he was ever afraid, he never showed it... never would, either.

"Albus was interviewing Sybil Trelawney for the Divination post. I didn't even believe it, but I reported back what I'd heard, along with Lucius Malfoy. The exact words were, 'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him… born as the seventh month dies…' This was all we heard. It's all I thought I had heard as well, until many years afterwards," Severus said softly. "Do you understand what I've just told you, Harry?" he asked when he noticed Harry hadn't reacted.

"You say this was in 1979?" Harry simply asked.

"Yes," Severus confirmed, swallowing bitterly. He wondered when Harry would get up and curse him, and he knew he would let him. He deserved it and a lot worse.

"A year before I was born... wow, I never knew the woman could see out of a paper bag, never mind actually predict anything, or rather I hadn't… until the end of my third year," Harry said. "I was a year old myself before he came after us, so he knew for nearly two years and did nothing? Decided suddenly that it was me? That I would have the power to kill him?" He shook his head, unable to make sense of it at all.

"You were the only one born on July thirty-first; although it was feared that Alice Longbottom would also have her son on that particular day, she didn't. Her son... he was born on the thirtieth of July. You were born on the stroke before midnight, truly as the seventh month died a day later," Severus said. "He still considered the Longbottoms regardless, but in the end it was your family he decided to go after. He decided you would be the most powerful, as you were similar to him… a half-blood."

"What made you change sides?" Harry asked, having a feeling he already knew the answer. He had been curious ever since he got here, why Severus had changed sides, why he'd begun spying for Dumbledore in the first place.

"The second he told me he was targeting the Potters, I asked The Dark Lord to spare her. Then I went to Dumbledore and begged him to save Lily. I'd have faced Azkaban, anything really; I promised Dumbledore I would spy for him if he would protect her," Severus tiredly said. He wasn't just physically tired, but emotionally as well; he couldn't believe that Harry was reacting like this. Was this the way Lily would have reacted? Not blaming him for something he had done? He knew how much Harry was like his mother. It made his heart feel so light and free - freer than it had been in a long, long time. Severus didn't bother telling him how Dumbledore had reacted to the fact that he only wanted Lily saved.

"As you now know, Pettigrew was passing on information to the Dark Lord from the moment you were born. I didn't know who the spy was; they finally went into hiding, and I thought I could breathe freer, that she would be safe from this war. A week later my life came crashing down around me…" Severus said, remembering, even thirteen years later, the horror he’d felt when Dumbledore told him. He had then gone to see for himself, unable to believe Dumbledore, but it had all been true. He had closed Lily's eyes and mourned her before fleeing back to Dumbledore before Sirius Black showed up.

"What did you do then?" Harry asked softly, consciously doing for Severus what the man had been doing for him. Letting him unburden and de-stress, letting someone who could understand know how he felt. Severus had been doing it for him since he had come to Prince Manor; well, here he could repay at least a smidgen of what he felt he owed his Potions Professor.

"I went back to Dumbledore in November, and he wanted me to reaffirm my allegiance to him. I swore to protect you, or rather your life, and I in turn asked him never to reveal to anyone about my unrequited love for Lily," Severus told him.

"She did love you, you know, just not the way you wanted," Harry said softly. "I love my friends and I haven't known them anywhere near as long as you were with my mum. I'd do anything for them... unless they joined him, I suppose… but that wouldn't happen. At least I don’t like to think so, anyway."

"I joined the teaching staff at Hogwarts soon after; I originally sought out the Defence Against the Dark Arts position, but Dumbledore refused to give that to me. So I became the Potions Professor, and Head of Slytherin house when Horace Slughorn retired," Severus explained further, getting a hold on his turbulent emotions.

"Has that position always been cursed, or is it just my luck?" Harry dryly asked.

"Contrary to popular belief, people have lasted longer than one year," Severus remarked sardonically, now truly back to his old self, or rather, the one Harry was used to seeing these past many weeks.

"The next one's going to be the same, I'll bet," grumbled Harry.

"Ah, about that… there's something you must know about your new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher…" Severus began reluctantly. Harry didn't seem to have much luck, it was true; he could only hope Harry heeded his warnings and didn't cause more trouble for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Jake and Jordre for editing this story and making it a better read!


	20. Chapter 20

A New Place To Stay  
Chapter 20  
Defence Teachers, Grimmauld Place, and Harry's Fury Reaches The Boiling Point

 

"What about him?" Harry asked warily. He was used to Defence teachers trying to kill him; he shouldn't be, but he was. Life hadn't been fair to Harry, and he just wished his life would be smooth sailing for one year.

"Her," Severus smoothly corrected. "She works in the Ministry of Magic, she's Fudge's undersecretary, and she's basically going to Hogwarts to keep an eye on you, no doubt." He didn't want to have to be the one to tell Harry this, but he knew if he didn't... no one else would. Not Black, not Lupin, hell, not even Dumbledore, who was, curiously enough, not even asking after him. No, if Harry was prepared, perhaps he would not do anything stupid— like starting an argument with the woman; she had the ability to make Harry's life very unpleasant if she wanted.

"What's an undersecretary?" Harry asked; he had heard of secretaries, but what on earth was an undersecretary? He would never in a million years ask anyone else other than Severus. He hated people knowing that he didn't know everything; he felt like a failure if he couldn't answer or know everything, full stop. He knew how the world saw him: Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, defeater of Voldemort, and indestructible ― he had the answer to everything, or so they thought. They obviously didn't see him in class! No, Hermione had that title; she knew everything.

"An undersecretary is an executive government official in many countries, frequently a career public servant, who typically acts as a senior administrator or second-in-command to a politically-appointed cabinet minister or other government official. The title is used in many different political systems. I don't blame you for not knowing; I myself would rather not know much about the Ministry of Magic," Severus said, scowling darkly as he thought of them.

"So she's someone important then….his…successor?" Harry asked warily.

"No, she won't become Minister; she is just important at the moment ... Fudge is giving her the power to do what she likes at Hogwarts. Now, listen: do not argue with her, do not say anything, just do as you're told and keep your head down. She can and will make your life very unpleasant; the world doesn't want to acknowledge the Dark Lord is back, and they will do anything to silence you," Severus said cautiously.

"Anything?" Harry asked sceptically… surely a Ministry official wouldn't resort to … anything, would she?

"Do you remember what I told you before… about the state of the Wizarding world before you received that lightning bolt?" Severus explained. Funny how he couldn't even bring himself to say “when your parents died.” He was in very deep trouble; he didn't want to say anything that might upset the boy. How was he going to survive? He'd no doubt be summoned after his first potions class and killed on the spot. He had never gone easy on Harry Potter before, and it was more than ever vital now, with the Dark Lord back, that he play his part to perfection. Getting to know the real Harry couldn't have come at a more difficult time, but he didn't regret it. He would figure out a way to make sure he played his part and wasn't hurting Harry at the same time. He wasn't sure just how he was going to go about it, but he would do it.

Harry did indeed remember the conversation:

"Perhaps at the moment you have a point; you understand why they’re doing it, don't you, Potter?" Severus cautiously asked.

"They just don't want to admit he's back," muttered Harry dryly.

"Yes. The last war was very bad indeed… people were going missing, being killed; the Ministry was being taken over. The world was awash with fear, people hoping for some miracle…Hogwarts was just about to be invaded by Voldemort's troops, then all of a sudden on Halloween night it all stopped, as if the world had been put on standstill," Severus explained, his voice haunted as if he was reliving the horror. "They had indeed stopped using his name for fear of his finding them… you see, he had put a spell on his name: anyone brave or stupid enough to speak it would find himself surrounded by Death Eaters and permanently silenced."

Harry gulped silently― it sounded horrific. With startling clarity he realized why people refused to say his name. For some reason all he could think was what Tom Riddle had told him in the Chamber of Secrets: "A name I knew Wizards everywhere would one day fear to speak, when I had become the greatest sorcerer in the world!" Ironically enough, even at the age of fifteen or sixteen, Voldemort had been right. If that was what awaited the wizarding world once more, ignoring him didn't make him still not there. They should be preparing themselves to defend against him. 

"Oh," Harry said very quietly. He felt very uncomfortable; he wasn't used to being given the truth so bluntly. He had in his own way been protected, not like Ronald Weasley, but kept ignorant of what Voldemort was truly capable of, while he was forced to play the hero.

"The man you have faced is but a shadow of the man he used to be, a spectre. You have to realize, Potter, up until now you have been lucky. Very lucky indeed—also very foolish to do what you did," Severus told the boy. He had wanted to strangle the boy for the bloody stunts he had pulled off over the years.

"Yeah," Harry sighed, knowing very well that was Severus' way of telling him ― that they would go as far as they had to, to keep him quiet. He would be proven right in the end; he would do what they wanted― he always had. Sometimes his anger got the better of him though, so all he could do was try.

"Keep your head down; if you need anything, earn yourself detention with me, even if it's just to talk, all right?" Severus grimly asked.

"Yes, sir," Harry solemnly promised. Inwardly he didn't know whether to laugh or to cry: laugh at the fact that he had grown close to his Potions teacher, or cry because he was leaving Prince Manor. He had grown so attached to everything: the ingredients he had grown, his little pond, his room... oh, he loved his room and everything about the place. It never took Harry long to get attached to something; a week at Hogwarts, and that place had become like home. He did neither; he just felt numb, exasperated maybe; Dumbledore was always screwing his life up.

"Good, now pack up; dinner will be served in half an hour. You have a few more hours before I must take you to Grimmauld Place," Severus softly explained.

"Wait!" Harry exclaimed quickly. "You said you only remembered more of the prophecy later… did you explain it all already?"

"Ah, that," Severus said, sitting back down once more. "I had nightmares about it for many years… so I put it in my Pensieve. It didn't completely stop the nightmares, but it helped somewhat. I must have forgotten that particular memory was in there, and I ended up viewing it the next time I entered my Pensieve. When I did, I realised I had heard more than I consciously remembered. It was a good thing and a bad thing; perhaps if I had remembered and told him that part, he would never have gone after you. 'He will mark him his equal,' it said," Severus explained, his finger trailing down the scar.

"I doubt that would have deterred him. I mean, he knows he's immortal― why would he be scared of those words? He'd think them untrue, or irrelevant because he was killing me, or something," Harry said thoughtfully. Dumbledore knew this; he wasn't sure what to think of that. Dumbledore knew why Voldemort had attacked, why his parents had died; he had asked, but Dumbledore had refused to tell him. Dumbledore had done so much, caused so much hurt in Harry's life, that he wasn't sure what to think anymore. Before this summer he had wanted Dumbledore's approval; he knew his love was flawed and manipulated, but Harry was so desperate for anyone's approval that he was willing to overlook it. Or rather, he had been willing. It was funny how life could change in just a few weeks; he no longer held any care if Dumbledore loved him. He finally had his safe haven, and perhaps even someone that cared about him enough to take time out of his day just for him.

"Perhaps," was all his Potions Master said thoughtfully as he left the room.

===========

"What about the gardens? They need to be watered, or they’ll die…" Harry protested; he didn't want the work he had put into the garden be for nothing. The ingredients would be ready for harvest soon, if they weren't already.

"That's what the house-elves are for," Severus said bluntly as he raised his fork to his mouth to eat a bit of the steak pie. They had carrots, sweet corn, peas, potatoes, mashed potatoes, fried chips, and steak pie smothered in gravy.

A sigh left Harry's lips; he had rather liked watering them nearly every day, a chore that he had liked. He knew a lot more about potions now than he had even a month ago, that was for sure. Thanks to the books he had been reading, he was very advanced, not just in Potions and Defence. Unfortunately, he was stuck now, being forced to go to Grimmauld Place; yes, he truly hated Dumbledore.

"Do not worry about the garden, it will remain intact; all your hard work won't be for nothing," Severus assured him. Apart from his voice, all that could be heard was the clattering of their cutlery.

"I hope Dobby hasn't gotten into trouble for taking the diary," Harry quietly murmured after a few minutes' silence. He spoke aloud when he was nervous, or rather spoke more and about inconsequential things.

"I doubt Dumbledore even thinks about House-elves, other than when he needs something cleaned. He will just think he's misplaced it; Dobby has put it back, but not where it was found. He's an old man now, and no doubt will put it down to age," Severus said smoothly.

Harry merely nodded.

Dessert was promptly served, fruit of nearly every kind, meringue, cream, custard, yoghurt and strawberry tart, and a sponge cake. Harry had a piece of everything; his appetite had never been this strong before. What he ate in one sitting now would have been enough to keep Harry going for a week previously. Severus ate a lot as well; it surprised Harry that he was so thin, he was sure they ate more than the Dursleys … well, almost.

Then again, Severus and Harry exercised every morning and were young and active; the Dursleys weren't. The Dursleys ate all day, practically, and did not under any circumstances bloody exercise.

If only Harry could see them now… the weight they had lost was astonishing, to say the least. They continued to live on what Severus fed them, which was only once a day, and he continued feeding them hamster food. Only enough to keep a rat alive, nothing more; Severus didn't care if they lived or died. His conscience was clear when it came to the Dursleys ― they shouldn't have abused a wizard. He was only fulfilling his vow to Dumbledore and, of course, Lily; he knew Lily was probably looking down, just as vindictive as he was. Oh, he knew Lily would have killed Petunia years ago if she had been able to. Nothing had been more important to Lily than those she loved, or, more specifically, Harry― her beloved son. He was only beginning to acknowledge that himself over the past month, or rather, almost a month. Unfortunately, Harry wasn't going to be staying at Prince Manor for his birthday; no, he would be at Grimmauld Place.

"How about we go and have a leisurely read in the library?" Severus smoothly asked as the dessert was finished.

"Okay!" Harry said immediately, obviously happy with that suggestion. Unfortunately, all the books Harry had read were going to have to stay here, including the meditation, occlumency, and Legilimency books he had read. It was a shame; there were so many interesting-looking books he wanted to read, but was obviously going to be unable to do so.

\---------

"Are you ready to go?" Severus asked smoothly, standing in the hall of Prince Manor and watching Harry magic his trunk from his room.

"Yeah," said Harry, nodding his head reluctantly.

"Do not use magic in the town house, or at least not in front of others. It is protected, but I do not want Dumbledore realising you have been using magic here. Dumbledore is the Secret Keeper of the building and will know immediately if magic is used in Grimmauld Place," Severus said in warning.

"Yes, sir!" Harry said, nodding in agreement. This was what he liked best about Severus Snape, he didn't hide things. He was honest― too honest sometimes, but nevertheless he told the truth. Then there was the fact that he didn't hold anything back “to let him be a child,” or because he thought Harry was too immature to handle it. This summer he had learned a lot, and he was truly grateful for it. Oh, he knew if he had been back at Privet Drive, he would have been trying to watch the news as usual for a sign of anything. His friends had neglected him; they hadn't written to him once, despite where they were staying. They had abandoned him― he had expected as much from Ron, but not Hermione.

"Good, now I'll shrink it for you; you can get one of the others to un-shrink it. You understand why I have to pretend that nothing has changed, don't you?" Severus asked. He was actually concerned about the teenager; he couldn't help but think this might push him ever the edge. The only thing he could do was try to reassure the young man that he didn't mean anything by it.

"Yeah," Harry quickly nodded, he did understand. More than Severus realized he did; he had seen the visions―he knew how vicious Voldemort was. If for a second he thought Severus was a spy for Dumbledore, he would be tortured and killed. He shuddered at the thought of losing Severus now; he had finally found a mentor and didn't want to lose him. If anyone did see the way they were, they would think they were dreaming or something.

"Right, then, let's go; occlumency shields up?" Severus asked, arching an eyebrow in enquiry.

"Yes, I have them up," Harry assured him.

"Good, then, let's go," Severus sighed, hiding his agitation behind his own occlumency barriers. He didn't want Harry to think he was agitated with him; things had changed indeed.

\------------

Harry looked around in confusion; he knew where he was supposed to be coming. A town house, a house that Sirius Black had grown up in. He had expected it to be like the Burrow, fields everywhere, not another house in sight. It was the Blacks after all; from what he could gather, they were pureblood fanatics ― that being why Sirius had run away in the first place. He didn't even blink when Severus roughly handed him a piece of paper and told him curtly to memorize it.

Looking down at the piece of paper, confusion enveloping him, he read it, letting it go abruptly when he realized it had been set on fire. Nevertheless, he could remember exactly what it had said― he would have to be stupid not to; after all, he had just read it. Dudley Dursley might have had trouble remembering it, though. He was spectacularly stupid; even at the age of eleven he’d had trouble counting, and his mother and father had had to count for him― he remembered the birthday-present nonsense that year.

The Headquarters For The Order Of The Phoenix May Be Found At Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, London.

"What is this?" Harry gaped when the building appeared out of nowhere.

"Inside, now!" Severus said quietly, but his voice was grave. He couldn't be caught with Harry Potter... just in case there were wizards and witches watching the place. Or more specifically, Death Eaters watching the place; many of the Dark Lord's followers knew of it, no doubt. Trailing his wand down the door, he heard the clanging of the locks’ opening, until finally the last lock shuddered, and the door opened. Harry was led inside, seemingly roughly, but the hand itself was unsurprisingly gentle.

As soon as the door was locked Severus practically hissed in his ear, "Secret Keeper, the townhouse is under the Fidelius Charm."

Harry shuddered, his mind automatically thinking of Voldemort doing that while his parents remained unaware, only to have Voldemort surprising the hell out of them and blasting their front door in. Swallowing thickly, he was aware of a hand on his shoulder for a few seconds, then it squeezed softly before backing away completely; then a look appeared on Severus' features that he hadn't seen for a while now.

If Harry hadn't been told by Severus what the “Order” was, he would have been deadly confused. A sigh left his lips, and he moved further into the decrepit house. He grimaced; he had never been anywhere this disgusting before. He refused to touch anything, and didn't stray too far from his Potions Master, without being obvious about it, of course. It didn't help that Severus still had his wand out, at the ready, as if he suspected something could come out of the shadows. His Aunt Petunia would have had heart failure if she’d seen the state of the place, and then would have made him clean everything, no doubt. For someone so fit, skinny, and a complete neat-freak, Petunia was very lazy.

"Oh, Harry! It's lovely to see you!" beamed Mrs. Weasley, as she brought him into a one-sided, rib-cracking hug. Harry was too angry with any of them even to be glad to see Mrs. Weasley. He was suddenly at arm’s length as she examined him; her critical gaze lasted only a second before her eyes became wide ― almost popping out of her head. "My, you have changed, Harry! Go on then, off you trot; no doubt you can wait for dinner!"

She turned to Severus and said "He's just arrived, the meeting's started."

"Very well," Severus coolly stated. Harry glanced between them, before backing away and going up the stairs almost reluctantly. He really, really didn't want to see his so-called best friends, because he could feel anger already flowing through him. He tried to calm himself down, really he tried, but he was just so angry at them. He wasn't even sure where he was to go, where he was sleeping or what he was doing here... He already wanted to be back at Prince Manor.

"Wait a moment, Harry, please!" Mrs. Weasley whispered, her voice low as she crept up to him. He raised an eyebrow in confusion― why was she whispering? He opened his mouth to voice that, but before he could even say anything, she whispered once more. "Ron and Hermione will explain everything, dear; I've really got to dash."

Harry wondered silently why she had even bothered coming with him just to tell him that. Shaking his head in silent agitation, he did what Severus had taught him: clearing his mind desperately, hoping against hope it was enough. She pointed at the door that was his, where he presumed he would be sleeping from then on in. He only wished he could shout from the rooftops that he wanted to go back to Prince Manor; it was much better than this disgustingly abandoned Black townhouse. Harry opened his door, assuming wrongfully that he would be alone, only to be ambushed by Hermione, his vision completely obscured by her large quantity of bushy hair as she leapt at him. Her screeching in his ear made him want to laugh or push her away; he settled on letting her do whatever she liked. Normally she would nearly knock him over; this year it was different, he was much stronger and healthier now. When he didn't hug her back she backed away, a look of curiosity and confusion on her face.

"HARRY! Ron, he's here! Harry's here! We didn't hear you arrive! Oh, how are you? Are you all right? Have you been furious with us? I bet you have, not sending any letters; we couldn't send you anything. Dumbledore made us swear not to send you anything! You have to tell us all about the Dementors! Are you okay? How are you feeling? How was Professor Snape treating you ...?" she asked without drawing breath; she had yet to take a proper look at him. The lighting wasn't ideal anyway; there were only a few torches in the brackets. Old-fashioned gas lamps, actually, to be precise.

"Let him breathe, Hermione," Ron said, grinning as he closed the door behind Harry. As usual, he didn't even seem to care that he, Harry, might be upset with him. That just made Harry's anger come back full force, screw occlumency lessons or meditation lessons.

Ron and Hermione just watched Harry's face as it closed off more and more.

"He seemed to think it was best," Hermione said, her voice rather breathless. "Professor Dumbledore, I mean."

"Right," Harry said, breathing through his nose and trying to compose himself. He really, really didn't want the entire group of Order members to hear him screaming at his friends.

"I think he thought you were safest with Snape..." was as far as Ron got.

"Yeah?" Harry retorted "Have either of you been attacked by Dementors this summer?" This wasn't about the Dementors really, but that was the first thing he was deciding to argue about.

"Well, no... but that's why you were put with Snape in the first place," Ron said.

"I see; so did Dumbledore tell you why he wants me kept in the dark?" Harry asked, his voice full of disdain.

"We told Dumbledore we wanted to tell you what was going on," Ron said. "We did, mate, but he's really busy now, we've only seen him twice since we came here, and he didn't have much time. He just made us swear not to owl you, just in case they were intercepted."

"You're not telling me you or he doesn't know how to send messages without owls?" Harry sneered, unable to help himself. His two best friends looked at each other, stricken, before Hermione reluctantly opened her mouth.

"I thought about that too, but he didn't want you to know anything," she said.

"So you agreed with him? You put Dumbledore before our friendship?" Harry asked shaking his head, a look of despair on his face. Hermione's magical strand went down three colours― he wasn't very happy with her at the moment. Ron's was, as usual, still barely there; he hadn't done anything surprising enough for the magical strand to change.

"Don't be thick!" Ron said, looking rather disconcerted.

"That's not right, Harry…" Hermione protested, looking worried, her brown eyes full of fear for her friendship with Harry.

"No? It's all right for you, isn't it? You've both been here, together, getting to know what's going on; me, I've been stuck with Snape all summer!" Harry snapped furiously, putting on the show Snape had basically told him to; although he probably hadn't meant for him to go on this way, he would.

"We're not!" Ron protested. "Mum won't let us near the meetings; she says we're too young!"

“Here goes, Harry,” he thought to himself. "YOU HAVEN'T BEEN IN THE MEETINGS; BIG DEAL! YOU'VE STILL BEEN HERE, HAVEN'T YOU? YOU'VE STILL BEEN TOGETHER! ME, I'VE BEEN STUCK WITH SNAPE FOR A MONTH, AND I'VE HANDLED MORE THAN YOU TWO'VE EVER MANAGED AND DUMBLEDORE KNOWS IT ― WHO MADE ME SAVE THE PHILOSOPHER’S STONE? WHO HAD TO GET BLOODY RID OF RIDDLE? NEED I MENTION THE DEMENTORS?" Harry snarled.

Every bitter and resentful thought Harry had had in the past months was pouring out of him: his frustrations that they were here together, not giving him any information on what was happening. What they didn't know didn't harm them; he knew more than they did probably. The fact they didn't write just because Dumbledore had demanded it had cemented his anger completely. It didn't matter that Severus had turned out to be someone he could confide in ― what mattered was that they had left him alone, had never even written a letter, and had left him to be miserable... or so they thought.

"WHO HAD TO GET PAST DRAGONS AND SPHINXES AND EVERY OTHER FOUL THING LAST YAER? WHO SAW HIM BROUGHT BACK? WHO HAD TO ESCAPE FROM HIM? WHO’S GOING TO BE EXPECTED TO SAVE THEM ALL AGAIN, JUST BECAUSE MY MUM AND I MANAGED TO DEFEAT HIM WHEN I WAS ONE YEAR OLD? ME! BUT NO, HEAVEN FORBID AM I TO BE BLOODY TRUSTED WITH ANYTHING!" Harry screeched, his face red, feeling much better already.

Ron was standing there with his mouth half-open, clearly stunned and at a loss for anything to say, whilst Hermione looked on the verge of bursting into tears.

"BUT WHY SHOULD I KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON; WHY SHOULD ANYONE BOTHER TO TELL ME WHAT'S HAPPENING?!" he continued to shout.

"Harry, we wanted to tell you, we really did..." Hermione began trying to explain.

"CAN'T HAVE WANTED IT THAT MUCH, CAN YOU, OR YOU'D HAVE SENT ME AN OWL. BUT DUMBLEDOREEE MADE YOU SWEAR..." Harry's voice had turned mocking now. What made it worse was, if it had been the other way around, Harry would have done something. He would have disregarded Dumbledore's warning or stupid promise or oath and he would have just sent something. Even if he had to make it in some sort of code that they could understand.

"Well, he did..." Ron stupidly protested.

"I GUESS YOU'VE HAD A RIGHT LAUGH, HAVEN'T YOU, HOLED UP TOGETHER HERE, WHILE I'VE BEEN STUCK WITH SNAPE, NOT KNOWING ANYTHING OF WHAT'S BEEN HAPPENING..." Harry screamed. He rather hoped he had protested about Severus enough, because he wasn't going to bring him up again. He wasn't going to outright say any more than he needed to about the man who had helped him more than anyone else.

"No... Honest!" Ron said.

"Harry, we're really sorry!" Hermione said desperately, her eyes now sparkling with tears. "You're absolutely right, Harry... I'd be furious if it were me!"

"Too damn bad you only think that now!" Harry flung at them. "Where's my room? Where am I staying?" he asked eventually.

"Here, that's your bed over there," Ron said, nervously indicating one bed.

Harry put his glasses and his trunk on the bedside table, before stuffing his wand under his pillow.

"It surely can't have been that bad," Hermione sniffed, "You look great!"

Ron glared, unnoticed by both of them; he had liked Hermione since he had realised she could dress so prettily during the ball last year. Her saying something like that about anybody, even their best friend, made him jealous and angry.

"Leave me alone," Harry said shaking his head; he just wanted to be alone, away from his so-called best friends. He had to decide whether it was worth being friends with them or not; did he forgive them or not? He just didn't know. He had loved them both once upon a time, but now he was just … angry with them all the time. Perhaps he had more in common with his mother than he thought, was Harry's next thought. She hadn't forgiven Severus for a mistake and he wasn't forgiving them, although he felt what had happened to him was worse than what Severus had said to his mother.

=========

Down the stairs, the entire Order of the Phoenix were sitting there seemingly shocked. Dumbledore was frowning, he had started frowning when Harry said people would probably expect him to kill “HIM” ―the Dark Lord, Severus had observed. Sirius looked rather worried and crestfallen for some reason. Remus was just staring grimly at the ceiling as if he expected it to fall in on itself.

Dung, as usual ―the useless, smelly, disgusting man that he was ― slept through Harry's entire rant. Severus had known it was coming; Harry had been too angry with them when Severus had informed him they were there. Severus hadn't realized, however, that his friends hadn't written at all. Dumbledore truly was driving Harry away from himself; if he didn't watch it, Harry wasn't ever going to listen to him again. It had been a very Slytherin move to make it sound as though he had loathed Prince Manor, from what he knew of Dumbledore now - he would probably plan on sending Harry back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited by Jake and Jordre thanks guys!


	21. Chapter 21

A New Place To Stay 

Chapter 21 

Useless Information and a strand rekindled 

 

"Hey, Harry, heard your loud…" Fred began, tutting mockingly.

"Colourful argument last night, mate…" George continued, passing their comments back to Fred.

"... you don't want to bottle up your anger, mate…"

"... just let it out; there might be a couple of people fifty miles away that didn't hear you," added George, finishing their statement.

"Don't be too hard on em!" Fred chimed in again.

"If you want our help pranking, feel free to ask!" George grinned at Harry.

"All pranks for you, my good friend…" Fred cried in fake admiration.

"Are free," George and Fred finished together, smirking wickedly, their eyes twinkling as if the three shared a secret.

"Thanks," Harry grunted, still not in the best of moods. Upon reflection, he'd rather be speaking to the twins than his so-called best friends. He wasn't stupid; he knew the twins understood. He had no doubt that the twins' best friend Lee Jordan knew everything. Fred and George kept nothing from the boy, who, by the way, was like their triplet; the three were inseparable.

"Here's one thing you might like," Fred said, handing something over after looking around as if suspecting someone to be lingering around with bad intentions. In fact, they were just making sure no one from the Order or their mother was there to see, really. A small piece of flesh-coloured stringwas put into his hand.

"What is this?" Harry asked, looking at it cautiously.

"That Harry, is an Extendable Ear― you can listen in on the meetings or whatever you want to listen in on," Fred told him, speaking as one person for once.

"Okay; why does everyone tip-toe around the place as if they’re afraid of making any noise?" demanded Harry; it was a question he had been dying to ask since last night. Despite how early he had gone to bed, he hadn't slept much. This place was so damp and disgusting, especially compared to Prince Manor. He was afraid to touch anything, go anywhere, just in case; a shudder wracked his frame at the thought of it.

Just then a clatter came from the kitchen, and the most awful noise filled the town house. Harry had his answer without even having the twins reply. "Scum! Filth! By-products of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks; begone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers..."

Harry winced, he hated that word, hated it above all others ever invented. Just then another presence joined the three teenagers; it was Sirius Black, identified by his voice.

"Shut up, you horrible old hag, shut UP!" he roared, seizing the curtains and trying to shut them.

"YOU!" the old hag howled, her eyes popping at the sight of the man. "Blood traitor, abomination, shame of my flesh!"

Harry gasped, flesh? That disgusting dingy old portrait was Sirius Black's mother? She was old, she was disgusting and foul-mouthed; how on earth was she related to his godfather? He looked at the twins, and they just looked amused by the show, obviously used to it. This was where he was staying until Hogwarts started back up? He silently wondered how his godfather handled this place― it was awful.

"I said ― shut UP!" Sirius roared, and with a stupendous effort he managed to get the curtain closed. With that the old woman's screeching came to an abrupt halt. The house once more descended into silence; Harry was grateful for it.

"Hello, Harry; I see you've met my mother!" Sirius said, his face grim.

"Uh… yeah," Harry said, feeling rather awkward; this wasn't how he would have acted a month or so ago. Things had changed; he had learned his godfather was selfish, immature, and almost a murderer, if it hadn't been for his father.

"Well, there's a few people here who'd like to meet you!" Sirius said, trying to get the awkwardness to go away. This wasn't how he wanted to spend his time with his godson, now that Dumbledore had finally let him come. He was so sure that Harry would be glad to be away from the vile, disgusting, evil, slimy Snivellus.

"Harry!" Mr. Weasley cried, hurrying forward to greet him, shaking his hand vigorously. "Good to see you! You look good! I see Severus has kept you fed!"

"Yes, sir," Harry said emotionlessly.

"Sit down, Harry!" Sirius said, believing Harry didn't want to talk about Snape. "You've met Mundungus, haven't you?"

"No," Harry said, staring at the pile of rags and wondering if “Mundungus” was even still alive.

"Some'n say m'name?" Mundungus said sleepily. Harry was met with very droopy, bloodshot eyes that were unfocused. It was the way Dudley looked after smoking joints on the street corners. Harry had to wonder if this man was on drugs too― did wizards have those kinds of drugs? Or was there some sort of potion that created the same effects? It was a curious question, really.

Ginny giggled childishly.

"I did, Dung; Harry's here," Sirius said rolling his eyes.

"Eh?" Dung said, peering balefully at Harry through his matted ginger hair. "Blimey, so 'e is. You all right, 'Arry?"

"Fine," Harry said, deeply uncomfortable. He was also feeling very restless, he hadn't been able to go for his morning run. He was already beginning to feel pigeonholed in this disgusting, decrepit building.

"This is the house where I grew up, Harry; I gave it to the Order of the Phoenix ― an organization run by Dumbledore to fight against Voldemort," Sirius told him.

"I gathered as much," Harry said bluntly. Watching everyone flinch made Harry bite back the urge to think, “Coward.” Then he remembered the words Severus had spoken, about how Voldemort had almost taken over the world the last time, how many people he had killed for having the courage to use his name. A silent sigh left his lips; nobody had ever truly told him the truth so bluntly before. It truly had been a refreshing change; now he supposed he was back to half-truths and lies. The lies made him remember what Sirius had done, and he felt cold all over. He had lied to him about his mother, or rather refused to tell him who his mother had been friends with. Severus hadn't only had Death Eater friends as Sirius had suggested, but one very good one: Harry’s mother.

"Dumbledore wants me to tell you something… I'm not sure how to say it," Sirius sighed sadly.

"He's not coming here himself?" Harry asked in confusion.

"No, no, he's too busy!" Sirius replied.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked. Everyone around looked grim suddenly, as if they KNEW what Sirius was going to say. Even Ron and Hermione, and Harry glared at them and shook his head in disgust, causing them to stare at one another, worried. Hermione's brown eyes once again filled with tears and fear.

"You know you weren't sent to the Dursleys this summer because Death Eaters had been patrolling the area?" It must have been rhetorical because Sirius continued speaking. "Well, the Dursleys disappeared weeks ago. We still aren't sure what happened to them, but Professor Dumbledore believes the Death Eaters have them. He said they knew better than to leave the area, something about warning them about his past." To be honest, Sirius had been in too much of a bad mood to listen properly.

Harry just stared blankly at him; the Dursleys were gone? It wasn't possible. Voldemort didn't have them, he couldn't have. Weeks ago he couldn't close his mind off; Voldemort would have shown him, boasted about it. They had run off, fled somewhere. They had to have, it was just impossible for the Death Eaters to have them. They didn't know he had been able to see Voldemort when the connection flared up. No, the Dursleys had just fled, probably; the wizards wouldn't know the first thing about tracking them that way― the Muggle way. Tracking charms probably didn't work over such long distances as the Dursleys had probably fled. Vernon had always been a coward, so it came as no surprise to Harry.

If only he knew.

\-----0

"Nearly time for bed, I think," Mrs. Weasley said with a yawn.

"Not just yet, Molly," Sirius said, pushing away his empty plate and turning to look at Harry. "You know, I'm surprised at you. I thought the first thing you'd do when you got here would be to start asking questions about Voldemort." It was now the second night since Harry had arrived at Grimmauld Place.

The atmosphere in the room changed with the rapidity Harry associated with the arrival of Dementors. Where seconds before it had been sleepily relaxed, it was now alert, even tense. A frisson had gone around the table at the mention of Voldemort's name. Lupin, who had been about to take a sip of wine, lowered his goblet slowly, looking wary.

"What would be the point? Nobody would tell me anything anyway!" Harry indignantly proclaimed.

"Harry's been trapped with Snivellus for ages, he probably doesn't know anything. He's got the right to know what's been happen..." it was a good thing the others began interrupting, because Harry had almost snapped at Sirius for speaking of Severus so nastily.

'Hang on!' interrupted George loudly.

'How come Harry gets his questions answered?' Fred angrily said.

'We've been trying to get stuff out of you for a month, and you haven't told us a single stinking thing!' George added.

"You're too young; you're not in the Order," Fred said in a high-pitched voice that sounded uncannily like his mother's.

"Harry's not even of age!" George protested.

"It's not my fault you haven't been told what the Order's doing," Sirius said calmly. "That's your parents' decision. Harry, on the other hand..."

"It's not down to you to decide what's good for Harry!" Mrs. Weasley said sharply. The expression on her normally kind face looked dangerous. "You haven't forgotten what Dumbledore said, I suppose?"

Harry breathed in through his nostrils furiously, keeping a very tight rein on his fury by doing what Severus had taught him. He had to learn to stop his anger from getting the better of him, especially before school. Severus had told him they would go as far as they needed to keep him quiet. He really hated Molly Weasley right now, interfering old witch; he'd be even more furious if he had been stuck with Snape without information.

"Which bit?" Sirius asked politely, but with the air of a man readying himself for a fight.

"The bit about not telling Harry more than he needs to know," Mrs Weasley said, placing a heavy emphasis on the last three words. Ron, Hermione, Fred, and George's heads swivelled from Sirius to Mrs Weasley as though they were following a tennis rally. Ginny was kneeling amid a pile of abandoned Butterbeer corks, watching the conversation with her mouth slightly open. Lupin's eyes were fixed on Sirius.

"I don't intend to tell him more than he needs to know, Molly," Sirius replied. "But as he was the one who saw Voldemort come back..." ―again, there was a collective shudder around the table at the name― "...he has more right than most to..."

"He's not a member of the Order of the Phoenix!" Mrs. Weasley interrupted. "He's only fifteen and..."

"And he's already dealt with as much as most in the Order," Sirius argued, "and more than some." Harry felt some of the affection he'd felt for his godfather come back; perhaps he wasn't so bad― nobody had ever argued like that for him before. The strand came back, weak and barely there, but it was back and that was what mattered.

"No one's denying what he's done!" Mrs. Weasley countered, her voice rising, her fists trembling on the arms of her chair. "But he's still..."

"He's not a child!" Sirius said impatiently.

"He's not an adult either!" Mrs. Weasley snapped, the colour rising in her cheeks. "He's not James, Sirius!"

Whoa, thought Harry, someone else was actually thinking the same as he was, although not for the same situation. Harry had thought that when Sirius had gotten in touch in the fireplace. Then he'd had the gall to say he was less like his father, a man he had never truly had the chance to remember. He kept the grin off his face, he was rather enjoying himself right now.

"I'm perfectly clear who he is, thanks, Molly," Sirius said coldly.

"I'm not sure you are!" Mrs. Weasley retorted. "Sometimes, the way you talk about him, it's as though you think you've got your best friend back!"

"What's wrong with that?" protested Ron.

"It's wrong, Ron, because Harry, is not his father, however much he might look like him!" Mrs. Weasley answered her son, although her eyes were still boring into Sirius. "He is still at school, and the adults responsible for him should not forget it!"

"Meaning I'm an irresponsible godfather?" demanded Sirius, his voice rising.

"Meaning you have been known to act rashly, Sirius, which is why Dumbledore keeps reminding you to stay at home and…"

"We'll leave my instructions from Dumbledore out of this, if you please!" Sirius said loudly. Harry muffled his grin; at least he wasn't the only one who really hated Dumbledore right now. Then again, did his godfather hate anyone other than stupid school grudges from Hogwarts, meaning Severus Snape?

"Arthur!" Mrs. Weasley demanded, rounding on her husband, "Arthur, back me up!" 

Mr. Weasley did not speak at once. He took off his glasses and cleaned them slowly on his robes, not looking at his wife. Only when he had replaced them carefully on his nose did he reply. "Dumbledore knows the position has changed, Molly. He accepts that Harry will have to be filled in, to a certain extent, now that he is staying at Headquarters."

"Yes, but there's a difference between that and inviting him to ask whatever he likes!" she cried.

"Personally," Lupin quietly said, looking away from Sirius at last, as Mrs. Weasley turned quickly to him, hopeful that finally she was about to get an ally, "I think it better that Harry gets the facts― not all the facts, Molly, but the general picture ―from us, rather than a garbled version from . . . others." His expression was mild, but Harry felt sure Lupin knew Fred and George had given him an Extendable Ear.

"Well," said Mrs. Weasley, breathing deeply and looking around the table for support that did not come, "well . . . I can see I'm going to be overruled. I'll just say this: Dumbledore must have had his reasons for not wanting Harry to know too much, and speaking as someone who has Harry's best interests at heart..."

"He's not your son," Sirius said quietly.

"He's as good as," Mrs Weasley declared fiercely. "Who else has he got?"

"He's got me!" Sirius proclaimed just as fiercely.

"Yes," Mrs Weasley responded, her lip curling, "the thing is, it's been rather difficult for you to look after him while you've been locked up in Azkaban, hasn't it?" Sirius started to rise from his chair.

"Molly, you're not the only person at this table who cares about Harry," Lupin said sharply. "Sirius, sit down."

Mrs. Weasley's lower lip was trembling. Sirius sank slowly back into his chair, his face white. "I think Harry ought to be allowed a say in this," Lupin continued, "He's old enough to decide for himself."

Harry wondered silently if he should just tell them he knew everything, stop the argument that was heating up. How he wished they truly did care; unfortunately he barely knew the woman who was claiming him as her own. He didn't know Molly Weasley any better than he knew Sirius Black. They didn't know him any better either; the only one who truly knew him was Severus Snape, a man he was supposed to hate. He had only ever seen Molly three times; he supposed he did know her better than Sirius at the end of the day. When he was a child, or maybe a few months ago, he would have been warmed upon hearing Molly's declaration, but he was no longer a child or a dependant.

"I want to know what's been going on," Harry said eventually.

"Very well," Mrs. Weasley said, her voice cracking. "Ginny - Ron - Hermione - Fred - George - I want you out of this kitchen, now."

There was instant uproar. "We're of age!" Fred and George bellowed together.

"If Harry's allowed, why can't I?" Ron shouted.

"Mum, I want to hear!" Ginny wailed.

"NO!" Mrs Weasley shouted standing up, her eyes overbright. "I absolutely forbid..."

"Molly, you can't stop Fred and George," Mr. Weasley said wearily. "They are of age."

"They're still at school."

"But they're legally adults now," Mr. Weasley pointed out, in the same tired voice. 

Mrs Weasley was now scarlet in the face. "I ― oh, all right then, Fred and George can stay, but Ron..."

"Harry'll tell me and Hermione everything you say anyway!" Ron said hotly. "Won't ― won't you?" he added uncertainly, meeting Harry's eyes.

"No. I'll give you a taste of being kept in the dark; see how you like it," Harry answered emotionlessly, staring at the red-headed boy. His friend's face dropped, before Hermione, Ron, and Ginny were ushered from the room, looking devastated.

"Okay, Harry . . . what do you want to know?" 

Harry took a deep breath and asked the question he was supposed to ask. "Where's Voldemort?" he asked, ignoring the renewed shudders and winces at the name. "What's he doing?"

"Nothing as of yet; he's stopped killing people."

"How come he's stopped killing people?" Harry asked. He knew Voldemort had murdered more than once in the last year alone.

"Because he doesn't want to draw attention to himself," Sirius replied. "It would be dangerous for him. His comeback didn't come off quite the way he wanted it to, you see. He messed it up."

"Or rather, you messed it up for him," Lupin amended with a satisfied smile.

"How?" Harry asked, playing ignorant.

"You weren't supposed to survive!" Sirius said. "Nobody apart from his Death Eaters was supposed to know he'd come back. But you survived to bear witness."

"And the very last person he wanted alerted to his return the moment he got back was Dumbledore," Lupin told him. "And you made sure Dumbledore knew at once."

"How has that helped?" Harry asked.

"Are you kidding?" Remus asked incredulously. "Dumbledore was the only one Voldemort was ever scared of!"

"Thanks to you, Dumbledore was able to recall the Order of the Phoenix about an hour after Voldemort returned," Sirius said.

"So, what's the Order been doing?" Harry said.

"Working as hard as we can to make sure Voldemort can't carry out his plans," Sirius said.

"How d'you know what his plans are?" Harry asked quickly. He wondered if they would tell him about Severus.

"Dumbledore's got a shrewd idea," Lupin hedged, "and Dumbledore's shrewd ideas normally turn out to be accurate."

Harry wanted to snap angrily at them, Dumbledore his arse, it was Severus Snape out there risking his life for them.

"So what does Dumbledore reckon he's planning?" Harry finally managed to ask.

"Well, firstly, he wants to build up his army again," Sirius told him. "In the old days he had huge numbers at his command: witches and wizards he'd bullied or bewitched into following him, his faithful Death Eaters, a great variety of Dark creatures. You heard him planning to recruit the giants; well, they'll be just one of the groups he's after. He's certainly not going to try and take on the Ministry of Magic with only a dozen Death Eaters."

"So you're trying to stop him getting more followers?" Harry asked.

"We're doing our best," Lupin replied.

"How?" asked Harry, stopping the snort from leaving his lips.

"Well, the main thing is to try and convince as many people as possible that Voldemort really has returned, to put them on their guard," Arthur answered. "It's proving tricky, though."

"Why?" Harry asked, already knowing and getting sick of asking questions he knew the answers to. It was a good time to see how far they were prepared to trust him, though, so he continued on.

"Because of the Ministry's attitude," Sirius said. "You saw Cornelius Fudge after Voldemort came back, Harry. Well, he hasn't shifted his position at all. He's absolutely refusing to believe it's happened."

"But why?" Harry said, seemingly desperate to understand. "Why's he being so stupid? If Dumbledore..."

"Ah, well, you've put your finger on the problem," Mr. Weasley said with a wry smile. "Dumbledore. Fudge is frightened of him, you see."

"Frightened of Dumbledore?" Harry repeated incredulously.

"Frightened of what he's up to," Mr Weasley explained. "Fudge thinks Dumbledore's plotting to overthrow him. He thinks Dumbledore wants to be Minister of Magic."

"But Dumbledore doesn't want..." at least Harry didn't think he did, anyway.

"Of course he doesn't," said Mr. Weasley. "He's never wanted the Minister's job, even though a lot of people wanted him to take it when Millicent Bagnold retired. Fudge came to power instead, but he's never quite forgotten how much popular support Dumbledore had, even though Dumbledore never applied for the job. Deep down, Fudge knows Dumbledore's much cleverer than he is, a much more powerful wizard, and in the early days of his Ministry he was forever asking Dumbledore for help and advice.

"But it seems he's become fond of power, and much more confident. He loves being Minister of Magic, and he's managed to convince himself that he's the clever one and Dumbledore's simply stirring up trouble for the sake of it."

"How can he think that?" Harry said angrily. "How can he think Dumbledore would just make it all up ― that I'd make it all up?" He wasn't supposed to understand why the Ministry didn't want to admit it. He wanted to see if they would be honest with him in that regard.

"Because accepting that Voldemort's back would mean trouble like the Ministry hasn't had to cope with for nearly fourteen years," Sirius told him bitterly. "Fudge just can't bring himself to face it. It's so much more comfortable to convince himself Dumbledore's lying to destabilise him."

"You see the problem," Lupin said. "While the Ministry insists there is nothing to fear from Voldemort, it's hard to convince people he's back, especially as they really don't want to believe it in the first place. What's more, the Ministry's leaning heavily on the Daily Prophet not to report any of what they're calling Dumbledore's rumour-mongering, so most of the wizarding community are completely unaware anything's happened, and that makes them easy targets for the Death Eaters if they're using the Imperius Curse."

"But you're telling people, aren't you?" Harry asked, "You're letting people know he's back?"

They all smiled humourlessly. "Well, as everyone thinks I'm a mad mass-murderer, and the Ministry's put a ten-thousand-Galleon price on my head, I can hardly stroll up the street and start handing out leaflets, can I?" Sirius said restlessly.

"And I'm not a very popular dinner guest with most of the community," Lupin added. "It's an occupational hazard of being a werewolf. Tonks and Arthur would lose their jobs at the Ministry if they started shooting their mouths off, and it's very important for us to have spies inside the Ministry, because you can bet Voldemort will have them."

"We've managed to convince a couple of people, though," Mr. Weasley said. "Having aurors on our side is a huge advantage ― Kingsley Shacklebolt's been a real asset, too; he's in charge of the hunt for Sirius, so he's been feeding the Ministry information that Sirius is in Tibet."

"But if none of you are putting the news out that Voldemort's back..." Harry began.

"Who said none of us are putting the news out?" Sirius demanded. "Why d'you think Dumbledore's in such trouble?"

"What d'you mean?" Harry asked.

"They're trying to discredit him," Lupin explained. "Didn't you see the Daily Prophet last week? They reported that he'd been voted out of the Chairmanship of the International Confederation of Wizards because he's getting old and losing his grip, but that's not true; he was voted out by Ministry wizards after he made a speech announcing Voldemort's return. They've demoted him from Chief Warlock on the Wizengamot ― that's the Wizard High Court ― and they're talking about taking away his Order of Merlin, First Class, too."

"But Dumbledore says he doesn't care what they do as long as they don't take him off the Chocolate Frog Cards," Fred said, grinning.

"It's no laughing matter," Mr. Weasley said sharply. "If he carries on defying the Ministry like this, he could end up in Azkaban, and the last thing we want is to have Dumbledore locked up. While You-Know-Who knows Dumbledore's out there and wise to what he's up to, he's going to go cautiously. If Dumbledore's out of the way... well, You-Know-Who will have a clear field."

"But if Voldemort's trying to recruit more Death Eaters, it's bound to get out that he's come back, isn't it?" Harry asked.

"Voldemort doesn't march up to people's houses and bang on their front doors, Harry," Sirius said. "He tricks, jinxes, and blackmails them. He's well-practised at operating in secret. In any case, gathering followers is only one thing he's interested in. He's got other plans too, plans he can put into operation very quietly indeed, and he's concentrating on those for the moment."

"What's he after, apart from followers?" Harry asked swiftly.

"Stuff he can only get by stealth."

When Harry continued to look puzzled, Sirius said, "Like a weapon. Something he didn't have last time."

"When he was powerful before?" Harry asked for confirmation.

"Yes." Sirius nodded.

"Like what kind of weapon?" Harry asked. "Something worse than the Avada Kedavra... ?" Harry didn't need to say any more; it was a good job Molly spoke when she did because it dawned on Harry what they meant. The prophecy― but Sirius had lied again, he did have it when he was in power before. A weapon, they were talking about the damned prophecy as if it was the answer to everything. He supposed it was, but not in the way they were suggesting it.

"That's enough!" Mrs. Weasley spoke from the shadows beside the door. Harry hadn't noticed her return from taking Ginny and the others upstairs. Her arms were crossed and she looked furious. "I want you in bed, now. All of you," she added, looking around at Fred and George.

"You can't boss us…"Fred began.

"Watch me," Mrs. Weasley snarled. She was trembling slightly as she looked at Sirius.

"You've given Harry plenty of information. Any more and you might just as well induct him into the Order straightaway."

"Why not?" Harry quickly said. "I'll join; I want to join, I want to fight."

"No." It was not Mrs. Weasley who spoke this time, but Lupin. "The Order is comprised only of of-age wizards," he said. "Wizards who have left school," he added, as Fred and George opened their mouths. "There are dangers involved of which you can have no idea, any of you . . . I think Molly's right, Sirius. We've said enough." Sirius half-shrugged, but did not argue. Mrs. Weasley beckoned imperiously to her sons and Harry. Harry was only too happy to get out of there and get up the stairs into the room he was sharing with Ron. He noticed Ron and Hermione were waiting on Ron's bed, looking at him expectantly. They truly thought he was about to tell them everything. Smirking in smug satisfaction he went straight to bed and feigned sleep until sleep finally did come to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big Thanks To Jake And Jordre For Editing


	22. Chapter 22

A New Place To Stay 

Chapter 22 

Cleaning Grimmauld Place Up And Unexpected, er, surprises: is it a Horcrux?

Some of this material will look familiar as it's from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Don't worry though, not everything is the same: Harry's reactions are different. I've always hated how Harry was in the books. Far too Gryffindorish for my tastes! This is a Harry that thinks and I hope you like him that way! This is the way I'm making him throughout the entire story. 

Some of this is mine but a good portion of it is from J.K Rowling and Harry Potter five, of course! 

\-----------------------------

Harry was woken up rather abruptly, looking around blearily, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He noticed at once that Ron was nowhere to be found, and he was grateful for that. The noise that had woken him had been the Weasley twins, Fred and George... who liked to call themselves Gred and Forge. Harry was actually getting to know them quite well, and realized they were smart and not just prank-wise either—although they were getting on his nerves with their constantly apparating everywhere and scaring the living daylights out of him. The pop that accompanied someone’s apparating was sort of like a car backfiring ― in other words, it was very loud.

"Wazzit?" Harry groaned, sitting up in bed cautiously.

"Mum says get up, your breakfast is in the kitchen, and then she needs you in the drawing room, there are loads more Doxies than she thought, and she's found a nest of dead puffskeins under the sofa," George said, the only one speaking, much to the surprise of Harry. Then again, it was entirely too early, barely six o'clock in the morning. Sure, he was an early riser, but even this was kind of early for him, especially considering he had only gotten back to sleep after a nightmare not even two hours ago. Needless to say, Harry wasn't very happy with anyone right now as he moodily got up.

"I'll be down in a minute," Harry said getting up; the twins apparated away, and Harry finally got dressed. Curiously enough, nobody had said anything about his new clothes. He had expected Ron and Hermione to ask him, regardless of whether they were talking or not. Sirius he didn't expect anything from, because the man had only ever seen him in school uniform before he’d come here for the rest of the summer. He was also wondering why he had to clean Grimmauld Place; it wasn't his bloody place to do such a thing. Honestly, he hadn't had to clean― well, not properly clean― at Prince Manor; he felt like he was back at the Dursleys' again. Today he dressed himself in the baggy jogging trousers Severus had first shrunk for him to wear when he went to Prince Manor and one of the shirts. He didn't want his clothes to be ruined, thank you very much, from all the dirty, dank, dusty― not to forget mouldy ― stuff in the town house. Now he was going to have to deal with Doxies and what ? Puffskeins? Fantastic... so without more ado he went for breakfast.

"Why are we cleaning up?" Harry whispered to Fred as he munched on a piece of toast; he made sure to put a lot of egg on his plate. He wanted to keep up the diet Severus had him on, because he could see the difference, and no way did he want to go back to being the weak link he had been before.

"Trust me, mate, you'll be glad for it; there's absolutely nothing to do here," Fred said seriously.

"Great," grimaced Harry― just how he wanted to spend his summer.

"Harry, where are your glasses?" Sirius asked, his eyes zooming in on his godson. Had Snape broken them? If so, he was going to go nuts at Dumbledore for allowing Harry near the slimy Slytherin. He noticed a lot of Lily shining through without the glasses on, and he honestly didn't like it. He liked the fact his godson looked like his best friend, he couldn't deny that.

Hermione and Ron looked up curiously from their own breakfasts; it was obvious to Harry they had been dying to ask. With the moods Harry had been in, they clearly had not wanted to push their luck with him, and so gave him the space he needed. Not only was it Ron and Hermione, but everyone at the table was also looking at Harry curiously. Harry wasn't sure what to say, without putting either his foot in it, or Severus' for that matter ― Severus wasn't supposed to care.

"I got my eyesight fixed; I don't need them," Harry eventually said, wondering if he had said the right thing, because Sirius looked furious for some peculiar reason.

"Did Snape make you?" Sirius asked through gritted teeth.

Harry's eyes widened in shock; honestly, why did Sirius have to blame everything on Severus? He wasn't a schoolboy anymore. Was he always going to be this way with Draco Malfoy? Then again, even he didn't blame everything on Malfoy unless it really was his fault. He was seeing a different side of his godfather, and he really didn't like it at all. He was very immature; a sigh left his lips and he shook his head in resignation― Sirius was always going to be this way, he knew it.

"Snape had nothing to do with my decision to correct my eyesight. I couldn't see without the glasses. I lost them when me and Hermione were being hit by the Whomping Willow; I couldn't take the chance of losing them again, so I made the decision to get the procedure done," Harry said in irritation. Yes, he was lying slightly; he had gotten it done because he had never had glasses that were actually prescribed for him in his life. He had hated the constant headaches and sore eyes he had always had. He was actually very grateful to have gotten it done, even if it had taken him weeks to stop himself from leaning over in the morning to grab glasses that were no longer there. He had taken great pleasure in snapping the glasses into tiny pieces and banishing them for good.

"If you’re sure," Sirius said doubtfully.

"I am," Harry insisted, barely managing to stop himself from rolling his eyes.

\--------0

Half an hour later Harry entered the drawing room, a long, high-ceilinged room on the first floor, with olive green walls covered in dirty tapestries. The carpet exuded little clouds of dust every time someone put a foot on it, and the long, moss-green velvet curtains were buzzing as though swarming with invisible bees. It was around those that Mrs. Weasley, Hermione, Ginny, Ron, Fred, and George were grouped, all looking rather peculiar, as they all had tied cloths over their noses and mouths. Each of them was also holding a large bottle of black liquid with a nozzle at the end.

"Cover your face and take a spray," Mrs. Weasley said to Harry the moment she saw him, pointing to one more bottle of black liquid standing on a spindle-legged table. "It's Doxycide. I've never seen an infestation this bad ― what house-elf's been doing this for the last ten years..."

Harry didn't have to look to know Hermione was probably glaring at Mrs. Weasley; she still felt strongly about house-elf rights, despite abandoning the campaign she had started up but never finished.

"Kreacher's really old, he probably couldn't manage..." Hermione protested, her voice muffled by the cloth she wore around her face.

Harry didn't even have an idea who Kreacher was, but he was guessing it was the Black house-elf if Hermione's statement was anything to go by.

"You'd be surprised what Kreacher can manage when he wants to, Hermione," Sirius said; he'd just entered the room carrying a bloodstained bag of what appeared to be dead rats. "As for this desk, I'd say it was a Boggart, but we ought to let Mad-Eye have a shifty at it before we let it out... knowing my mother, it could be something much worse."

"Right you are, Sirius," Mrs. Weasley said.

Sirius was just about to speak to Harry when the now-familiar screeching started up. Harry didn't know whether he was grateful or not, considering Sirius' earlier display at breakfast. "I keep telling them not to ring the doorbell!" Sirius cried in obvious exasperation as he thundered down the stairs.

Mrs. Weasley was bending over to check the page on Doxies in Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide to Household Pests, which was lying open on the sofa. "Right, you lot, you need to be careful, because Doxies bite, and their teeth are poisonous. I've got a bottle of antidote here, but I'd rather nobody needed it." She straightened up, positioned herself squarely in front of the curtains, and beckoned them all forward. "When I say the word, start spraying immediately," she said. "They'll come flying out at us, I expect, but it says on the sprays one good squirt will paralyse them. When they're immobilized, just throw them in this bucket." She stepped carefully out of their line of fire, and raised her own spray. "All right ― squirt!" 

Harry had been spraying only a few seconds when a fully-grown Doxy came soaring out of a fold in the material, shiny beetle-like wings whirring, tiny needle-sharp teeth bared, its fairy-like body covered with thick black hair, and its four tiny fists clenched with fury. Harry caught it full in the face with a blast of Doxycide. It froze in midair and fell, with a surprisingly loud thunk, onto the worn carpet below. Harry picked it up and threw it in the bucket.

"Fred, what are you doing?" Mrs. Weasley said sharply. "Spray that at once and throw it away!" Harry looked round. Fred was holding a struggling Doxy between his forefinger and thumb.

"Right-o," Fred said brightly, spraying the Doxy quickly in the face so that it fainted, but the moment Mrs Weasley's back was turned he pocketed it with a wink.

"We want to experiment with Doxy venom for our Skiving Snackboxes," George told Harry under his breath. Deftly spraying two Doxies at once as they soared straight for his nose, Harry moved closer to George and muttered out of the corner of his mouth. "What are Skiving Snackboxes?"

"Range of sweets to make you ill," George whispered, keeping a wary eye on Mrs. Weasley's back. "Not seriously ill, mind, just ill enough to get you out of a class when you feel like it. Fred and I have been developing them this summer. They're double-ended, colour-coded chews. If you eat the orange half of the Puking Pastilles, you throw up. Moment you've been rushed out of the lesson for the hospital wing, you swallow the purple half... " George explained.

"...which restores you to full fitness, enabling you to pursue the leisure activity of your own choice during an hour that would otherwise have been devoted to unprofitable boredom. That's what we're putting in the adverts, anyway," whispered Fred, who had edged over out of Mrs. Weasley's line of vision and was now sweeping a few stray Doxies from the floor and adding them to his pocket. "But they still need a bit of work. At the moment, our testers are having a bit of trouble stopping themselves from puking long enough to swallow the purple end."

"Testers?" Harry asked, amused.

"Us," Fred admitted.

"We take it in turns. George did the Fainting Fancies; we both tried the Nosebleed Nougat. Mum thought we'd been duelling," George told him with a grin.

"Joke shop still on, then?" Harry muttered, pretending to be adjusting the nozzle on his spray.

"Well, we haven't had a chance to get premises yet," Fred replied, dropping his voice even lower as Mrs. Weasley mopped her brow with her scarf before returning to the attack, "so we're running it as a mail-order service at the moment. We put advertisements in the Daily Prophet last week."

"All thanks to you, mate," George said. "But don't worry... Mum hasn't got a clue. She won't read the Daily Prophet anymore, 'cause of it telling lies about you and Dumbledore." 

Harry grinned. He had forced the Weasley twins to take the thousand Galleons in prize money he had won in the Tri-Wizard Tournament to help them realise their ambition to open a joke shop, but he was still glad to know that his part in furthering their plans was unknown to Mrs. Weasley. She did not think running a joke shop was a suitable career for two of her sons.

The de-Doxying of the curtains took most of the morning. It was past midday when Mrs. Weasley finally removed her protective scarf, sank into a sagging armchair, and sprang up again with a cry of disgust, having sat on the bag of dead rats. The curtains were no longer buzzing; they hung limp and damp from the intensive spraying. At the foot of them, unconscious Doxys lay crammed in the bucket beside a bowl of their black eggs, at which Crookshanks was now sniffing and Fred and George were shooting covetous looks.

"I think we'll tackle those after lunch." Mrs. Weasley pointed at the dusty glass-fronted cabinets standing on either side of the mantelpiece. They were crammed with an odd assortment of objects: a selection of rusty daggers, claws, a coiled snakeskin, a number of tarnished silver boxes inscribed with languages Harry could not understand and, least pleasant of all, an ornate crystal bottle with a large opal set into the stopper, full of what Harry was quite sure was blood. The clanging doorbell rang again. Everyone looked at Mrs. Weasley

"Stay here," she said firmly, snatching up the bag of rats as Mrs. Black's screeches started up again from down below. "I'll bring up some sandwiches." She left the room, closing the door carefully behind her. At once, everyone dashed over to the window to look down on the doorstep. They could see the top of an unkempt gingery head and a sack of precariously balanced cauldrons.

"Mundungus!" Hermione exclaimed. "What's he brought all those cauldrons for?"

"Probably looking for a safe place to keep them," Fred said as the front door opened; Mundungus heaved his cauldrons through it and disappeared from view. "Blimey, Mum won't like that . . . she hates his dodgy dealings."

Harry, Fred, and George crossed to the door and stood beside it, listening closely. Mrs. Black's screaming had stopped.

"Mundungus is talking to Sirius and Kingsley," Fred muttered, frowning with concentration. "Can't hear properly . . . d'you reckon we can risk the Extendable Ears?"

"I wouldn't bother; what use is he?" Harry scoffed, but at that moment it was completely unnecessary as they heard every word Molly Weasley had to say about stolen Cauldrons. After she finished her tirade and Sirius' mum started up again, they tried to close the door, only to be stopped by the entrance of a house-elf. Kreacher, Harry presumed, and Hermione did have it right, he was old.

Except for the filthy rag tied like a loincloth around its middle, it was completely naked. It looked very old. Its skin seemed to be several times too big for it and, though it was bald like all house-elves, there was a quantity of white hair growing out of its large, bat-like ears. Its eyes were a bloodshot and watery grey, and its fleshy nose was large and rather snoutlike.

The elf took absolutely no notice of Harry and the rest. Acting as though it could not see them, it shuffled hunchbacked, slowly and doggedly, towards the far end of the room, all the while muttering under its breath in a hoarse, deep voice like a bullfrog's. ". . . smells like a drain and a criminal to boot, but she's no better, nasty old blood traitor with her brats messing up my mistress's house, oh, my poor mistress, if she knew, if she knew the scum they've let into her house, what would she say to old Kreacher, oh, the shame of it, Mudbloods and werewolves and traitors and thieves, poor old Kreacher, what can he do . . ."

"Hello, Kreacher," Fred said very loudly, closing the door with a snap. The house-elf froze in his tracks, stopped muttering, and gave a very pronounced and very unconvincing start of surprise.

"Kreacher did not see young master," he said, turning around and bowing to Fred. Still facing the carpet, he added, perfectly audibly, "Nasty little brat of a blood traitor it is."

"Sorry?" George said. "Didn't catch that last bit."

"Kreacher said nothing," the elf said, with a second bow to George, adding in a clear undertone, "and there's its twin, unnatural little beasts they are."

Harry didn't know whether to laugh or not. The elf straightened up, eyeing them all malevolently, and apparently convinced that they could not hear him as he continued to mutter. ". . . and there's the Mudblood, standing there bold as brass, oh if my mistress knew, oh, how she'd cry. And there's a new boy, Kreacher doesn't know his name. What is he doing here? Kreacher doesn't know . . ."

"This is Harry, Kreacher," Hermione tentatively said, "Harry Potter." As if she was trying to befriend the elf and make it up to Harry in some sort of bizarre fashion.

Kreacher's pale eyes widened and he muttered faster and more furiously than ever. "The Mudblood is talking to Kreacher as though she is my friend, if Kreacher's mistress saw him in such company, oh, what would she say..."

"Don't call her a Mudblood!" Ron and Ginny said together, very angrily.

"It doesn't matter," Hermione whispered, "he's not in his right mind, he doesn't know what he's... "

"Don't kid yourself, Hermione, he knows exactly what he's saying," Fred said, eyeing Kreacher with great dislike.

Kreacher was still muttering, his eyes on Harry. "Is it true? Is it Harry Potter? Kreacher can see the scar, it must be true, that's the boy who stopped the Dark Lord, Kreacher wonders how he did it―"

"Don't we all, Kreacher," Fred said.

"What do you want, anyway?" George asked.

Kreacher's huge eyes darted towards George. "Kreacher is cleaning," he said evasively.

"A likely story," a voice behind Harry said. Sirius had come back; he was glowering at the elf from the doorway. The noise in the hall had abated; perhaps Mrs. Weasley and Mundungus had moved their argument down into the kitchen. At the sight of Sirius, Kreacher flung himself into a ridiculously low bow that flattened his snoutlike nose on the floor.

"Stand up straight," Sirius impatiently snapped. "Now, what are you up to?"

"Kreacher is cleaning," the elf repeated. "Kreacher lives to serve the Noble House of Black―"

"And it's getting blacker every day; it's filthy," Sirius said.

"Master always liked his little joke," Kreacher said, bowing again, and continuing in an undertone, "Master was a nasty ungrateful swine who broke his mother's heart..."

"My mother didn't have a heart, Kreacher," Sirius snapped. "She kept herself alive out of pure spite."

Kreacher bowed again as he spoke. "Whatever Master says," he muttered furiously. "Master is not fit to wipe slime from his mother's boots, oh, my poor mistress, what would she say if she saw Kreacher serving him, how she hated him, what a disappointment he was..."

"I asked you what you were up to," Sirius said coldly. "Every time you show up pretending to be cleaning, you sneak something off to your room so we can't throw it out."

"Kreacher would never move anything from its proper place in Master's house," said the elf, then muttered very fast, "Mistress would never forgive Kreacher if the tapestry was thrown out, seven centuries it's been in the family; Kreacher must save it, Kreacher will not let Master and the blood traitors and the brats destroy it..."

"I thought it might be that," Sirius said, casting a disdainful look at the opposite wall. "She'll have put another Permanent Sticking Charm on the back of it, I don't doubt, but if I can get rid of it I certainly will. Now go away, Kreacher."

"What's wrong with that?" Harry asked, staring at Sirius emotionlessly, having just watched a grown man treat a house-elf like he imagined Lucius Malfoy used to treat Dobby. Not just any grown man, his own godfather, and he was being just utterly disgraceful. Harry ignored the look the house-elf gave him, half-stunned, half-disgusted, and half in wonder.

"What?" Sirius asked, confused.

"What's wrong with the fact he wants to save some of the things? He's bound to have served the Black family for at least thirty years…" Harry trailed off, wondering why he had opened his mouth after the looks everyone was casting him.

Sirius didn't have an answer for him.

"How do house-elves manage to eat? With no money, no mistress or master … alone in a house like this for ten years?" Harry asked out of the blue.

Sirius began stuttering, utterly bewildered by Harry's questions.

"Hmm…" Harry said before walking out, leaving everyone to gawp at his back as if they hadn't seen him before. Kreacher had said some bad things, but Harry knew better than to blame it on the poor house-elf. If you live with someone long enough, you begin believing what they say. Who knew how long Kreacher had lived with the Blacks, being fed their beliefs; he wondered, though, how Sirius had managed to free himself from it all.

He knew what it was like to be treated like Kreacher. It was how he’d grown up; instead of a boiler room, though, he’d had a cupboard ―like that was a step up. Instead of being fed pureblood nonsense, he'd had it drummed into him that he was a freak. They both spent their days cleaning, maybe wondering when would be the next time they were going to be fed. The look Sirius had thrown Kreacher had hit home, it was how his only remaining family stared at him: as if he was a cockroach in their spotless kitchen. He knew he was looking at everything too personally; damn it, he couldn't just ignore it, though. A year ago he knew he wouldn't have cared, so desperate for any affection he would have just allowed it to happen and not thought any more of it.

\-----------0

Mrs. Weasley kept them all working very hard over the next few days. The drawing room took three days to decontaminate. Finally, the only undesirable things left in it were the tapestry of the Black family tree, which resisted all their attempts to remove it from the wall, and the rattling writing desk. Moody had not dropped by Headquarters yet, so they could not be sure what was inside it.

There had been a locket with a huge 'S' carved in it, set with green emeralds, that everyone had tried to open with no success. When Fred had handed it to him, he, like everyone else, had tried to pry it open. He froze when he tried to open it; since learning to shut his mind off, he hadn't felt anything from his scar. Yet right now it twinged; holding the locket close, he suddenly felt something very strange and familiar. For some odd reason this locket was reminding him of the diary from second year. Nobody noticed Harry paling drastically, nor did anyone see him sneakily putting the locket in his pocket (making it look like he was throwing it in the black sack along with everything else being thrown out). Harry had been good at that, sneaking things― mostly food, really, when he was cooking for the Dursleys. He hadn't dared risk it too often, for fear of incurring the Dursleys' wrath... not that they needed an excuse, of course.

They moved from the drawing room to a dining room on the ground floor, where they found spiders as large as saucers lurking in the dresser (Ron left the room hurriedly to make a cup of tea and did not return for an hour and a half). The china, which bore the Black crest and motto, was all thrown unceremoniously into a sack by Sirius, and the same fate met a set of old photographs in tarnished silver frames, all of whose occupants squealed shrilly as the glass covering them smashed. Mrs. Weasley might refer to their work as 'cleaning', but in Harry's opinion they were really waging war on the house, which was putting up a very good fight, aided and abetted by Kreacher. The house-elf kept appearing wherever they were congregated, his muttering becoming more and more offensive as he attempted to remove anything he could from the rubbish sacks. Which did not contain a locket ―the real thing the house-elf was looking for― something he had failed to open on the orders of his real Master, Regulus.

Sirius went so far as to threaten him with clothes, but Kreacher fixed him with a watery stare and said, "Master must do as Master wishes," before turning away and muttering very loudly, "but Master will not turn Kreacher away, no, because Kreacher knows what they are up to, oh yes, he is plotting against the Dark Lord, yes, with these Mudblood and traitors and scum . . ." At which Sirius, ignoring Hermione's protests, seized Kreacher by the back of his loincloth and threw him bodily from the room. Harry completely ignored Sirius' existence after that; unfortunately there was nothing he could do. Kreacher was Sirius' house-elf, and it was true Kreacher did know too much about the Order to be released, or Harry would have found a way to trick Sirius into it, much like he had done with Dobby. But actually looking at the elf, he knew the shock would kill Kreacher, as Sirius had said days ago.

The doorbell rang several times a day, which was the cue for Sirius's mother to start shrieking again, and for Harry and the others to attempt to eavesdrop on the visitor, though they gleaned very little from the brief glimpses and snatches of conversation they were able to sneak before Mrs. Weasley recalled them to their tasks. Severus flitted in and out of the house several times more, though to Harry's disappointment they never came face to face; he had something he wanted Severus to have. The locket... there was something strange about it, and it made Harry's scar feel prickly; it was as dark as the diary had felt. He just knew, deep down, that it was a Horcrux. Harry also caught sight of his Transfiguration teacher Professor McGonagall, looking very odd in a Muggle dress and coat, and she also seemed too busy to linger.

Sometimes, however, the visitors stayed to help. Tonks joined them for a memorable afternoon in which they found a murderous old ghoul lurking in an upstairs toilet, and Lupin, who was staying in the house with Sirius but who left it for long periods to do mysterious work for the Order, helped them repair a grandfather clock that had developed the unpleasant habit of shooting heavy bolts at passers-by.

Mundungus redeemed himself slightly in Mrs. Weasley's eyes by rescuing Ron from an ancient set of purple robes that had tried to strangle him when he removed them from their wardrobe. Harry would never admit it to anyone, but to see an enchanted robe strangling a human was a funny sight. However, his amusement was short-lived, as the letters from Hogwarts came.

Much to Harry's astonishment and hurt, Ron had been chosen as a Prefect.

"Prefect?" George leapt forwards, seized the envelope in Ron's other hand and turned it upside-down. Harry saw something scarlet and gold fall into George's palm. "No way," George said in a hushed voice.

"There's been a mistake," Fred said, snatching the letter out of Ron's grasp and holding it up to the light as though checking for a watermark. "No one in their right mind would make Ron a Prefect."

The twins' heads turned in unison and both of them stared at Harry. "We thought you were a cert!" Fred said, in a tone that suggested that they thought this was some sort of prank.

"We thought Dumbledore was bound to pick you!" George said indignantly.

"Winning the Tri-Wizard and everything!" Fred added.

"I suppose all the mad stuff must've counted against him," George said to Fred.

"Yeah," Fred slowly agreed.

"Yeah, you've caused too much trouble, mate. Well, at least one of you's got their priorities right." He strode over to Harry and clapped him on the back while giving Ron a scathing look. "Prefect . . . ickle Ronnie the Prefect."

"Ohh, Mum's going to be revolting," George groaned, thrusting the Prefect badge at Harry as though it might contaminate him. Ron, who still had not said a word, stared at the badge in Harry's hands, utterly shocked. Harry stared at it, unsure of what to feel. A large 'P' was superimposed on the Gryffindor lion. He had seen a badge just like this on Percy's chest on his very first day at Hogwarts.

The door banged open. Hermione came tearing into the room, her cheeks flushed and her hair flying. There was an envelope in her hand. "Did you... did you get... ?"

She spotted the badge in Harry's hand and let out a shriek. "I knew it!" she said excitedly, brandishing her letter. "Me too, Harry, me too!"

"No," Harry said coldly, pushing the badge into Ron's hand. "It's Ron, not me."

"It... what?" Hermione gaped, confused, wondering if Harry was being like that with her because he was still mad.

"Ron's Prefect, not me," Harry said scathingly.

"Ron?" Hermione repeated, her jaw dropping. "But . . . are you sure? I mean…"

She turned red as Ron looked round at her with a defiant expression on his face. "It's my name on the letter," he said.

"I . . ." Hermione stammered, looking thoroughly bewildered. "I . . . well . . . wow! Well done, Ron! That's really..."

"Unexpected," George said, nodding.

"No," Hermione said, blushing harder than ever, "no it's not . . . Ron's done loads of . . . he's really . . ."

The door behind her opened a little wider and Mrs. Weasley backed into the room carrying a pile of freshly laundered robes. "Ginny said the booklists have come at last," she said, glancing around at all the envelopes as she made her way over to the bed and started sorting the robes into two piles.

"If you give them to me I'll take them over to Diagon Alley this afternoon and get your books while you're packing. Ron, I'll have to get you more pyjamas, these are at least six inches too short; I can't believe how fast you're growing . . . what colour would you like?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"Get him red and gold to match his badge," George said, smirking.

"Match his what?" Mrs. Weasley asked absently, rolling up a pair of maroon socks and placing them on Ron's pile.

"His badge," Fred said, with the air of getting the worst over quickly. "His lovely, shiny, new Prefect's badge." Fred's words took a moment to penetrate Mrs Weasley's preoccupation with pyjamas.

"His . . . but . . . Ron, you're not . . .?" Mrs. Weasley gaped.

Ron held up his badge. Mrs Weasley let out a shriek just like Hermione's. "I don't believe it! I don't believe it! Oh, Ron, how wonderful! A Prefect! That's everyone in the family!"

"What are Fred and I, next-door neighbours?" George said indignantly, as his mother pushed him aside and flung her arms around her youngest son.

"Wait until your father hears! Ron, I'm so proud of you, what wonderful news, you could end up Head Boy just like Bill and Percy, it's the first step! Oh, what a thing to happen in the middle of all this worry, I'm just thrilled, oh, Ronnie..."

Fred and George were both making loud retching noises behind her back but Mrs. Weasley did not notice; arms tight around Ron's neck, she was kissing him all over his face, which had turned a brighter scarlet than his badge. "Mum . . . don't . . . Mum, get a grip . . ." he muttered, trying to push her away. She let go of him and said breathlessly, "Well, what will it be? We gave Percy an owl, but you've already got one, of course."

"W-what do you mean?" Ron said, looking as though he did not dare believe his ears.

"You've got to have a reward for this!" Mrs. Weasley fondly said. "How about a nice new set of dress robes?"

"We've already bought him some," Fred said sourly, looking as though he sincerely regretted their generosity.

"Or a new cauldron; Charlie's old one's rusting through. Or a new rat, you always liked Scabbers..."

"Mum," Ron asked hopefully, "can I have a new broom?" Mrs Weasley's face fell slightly; broomsticks were expensive.

"Not a really good one!" Ron hastened to add. "Just... just a new one for a change. . ."

Mrs. Weasley hesitated, and then smiled. "Of course you can... well, I'd better get going if I've got a broom to buy too. I'll see you all later... little Ronnie, a Prefect! And don't forget to pack your trunks... a Prefect... Oh; I'm all in a dither!" She gave Ron yet another kiss on the cheek, sniffed loudly, and bustled from the room.

Harry just stared at the wall. He wondered silently if his own parents would have acted like that, if they had been alive and if he had been chosen Prefect. He was sure his mother had been one; perhaps it was something worth asking Severus about. Harry felt deeply betrayed by Dumbledore, although he had never thought about being Prefect or being chosen, but he had let both his best friends be prefects. It was a good thing Severus was a part of Harry's life or the betrayal would have run much deeper. If he thought it was bad right now, just wait until later on tonight, and then he would be truly pissed.

\----------0

Down in the basement Mrs. Weasley had hung a scarlet banner over the heavily laden dinner table, which read:

CONGRATULATIONS  
RON AND HERMIONE  
NEW PREFECTS

She looked in a better mood than Harry had seen her all holiday. "I thought we'd have a little party, not a sit-down dinner," she told Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, and Ginny as they entered the room. "Your father and Bill are on their way, Ron. I've sent them both owls and they're thrilled," she added, beaming.

Fred rolled his eyes. Sirius, Lupin, Tonks, and Kingsley Shacklebolt were already there, and Mad-Eye Moody stumped in shortly after Harry had got himself a Butterbeer and sat in the corner.

"Oh, Alastor, I am glad you're here," Mrs. Weasley said brightly, as Mad-Eye shrugged off his travelling cloak. "We've wanted to ask you for ages―could you have a look at the writing desk in the drawing room and tell us what's inside it? We haven't wanted to open it. Just in case it's something really nasty."

"No problem, Molly . . ." Moody's electric-blue eye swivelled upwards and stared fixedly through the ceiling of the kitchen. "Drawing room . . ." he growled, as the pupil contracted. "Desk in the corner? Yeah, I see it . . . yeah, it's a Boggart . . . want me to go up and get rid of it, Molly?"

"No, no, I'll do it myself later," Mrs Weasley beamed, "you have your drink. We're having a little bit of a celebration, actually.. ." She gestured at the scarlet banner. "Fourth Prefect in the family!" she said fondly, ruffling Ron's hair.

"Prefect, eh?" Moody growled, his normal eye on Ron and his magical eye swivelling around to gaze into the side of his head. Harry had the very uncomfortable feeling it was looking at him and had to stop the biting retort from leaving his lips.

"Well, congratulations," Moody said, still glaring at Ron with his normal eye. "Authority figures always attract trouble, but I suppose Dumbledore thinks you can withstand most major jinxes or he wouldn't have appointed you . . ." Ron looked rather startled at this view of the matter but was saved the trouble of responding by the arrival of his father and eldest brother.

Mrs. Weasley was in such a good mood, she did not even complain that they had brought Mundungus with them; he was wearing a long overcoat that seemed oddly lumpy in unlikely places and declined the offer to remove it and put it with Moody's travelling cloak. "Well, I think a toast is in order," said Mr. Weasley, when everyone had a drink. He raised his goblet. "To Ron and Hermione, the new Gryffindor Prefects!" Ron and Hermione beamed as everyone drank to them, and then applauded.

"I was never a Prefect myself," Tonks said brightly from behind Harry as everybody moved towards the table to help themselves to food. Her hair was tomato red and waist-length today; she looked like Ginny's older sister. "My Head of House said I lacked certain necessary qualities."

"Like what?" Ginny asked as she was choosing a baked potato.

"Like the ability to behave myself," Tonks replied. Ginny laughed; Hermione looked as though she did not know whether to smile or not and compromised by taking an extra large gulp of Butterbeer and choking on it.

"What about you, Sirius?" Ginny asked, thumping Hermione on the back. Sirius, who was right beside Harry, let out his usual bark-like laugh. "No one would have made me a Prefect; I spent too much time in detention with James. Lupin was the good boy, he got the badge."

"I think Dumbledore might have hoped I would be able to exercise some control over my best friends," Lupin explaned. "I need scarcely say that I failed dismally."

Harry snorted in bitter amusement― that was an understatement; if anything, they'd gotten worse when Lupin was Prefect. If he remembered correctly, Severus had told him that he was fifteen, or maybe sixteen when Sirius had tricked him into going to the Whomping Willow after a werewolf. Thankfully everyone had laughed at Remus' declaration, so no one heard Harry's snort.

Harry slid away from them in the direction of Fred and George, who were huddled in a corner with Mundungus. Mundungus stopped talking when he saw Harry, but Fred winked and beckoned Harry closer.

"It's okay," he told Mundungus. "We can trust Harry, he's our financial backer."

"Look what Dung's got us," George said, holding out his hand to Harry. It was full of what looked like shrivelled black pods. A faint rattling noise was coming from them, even though they were completely stationary. "Venomous Tentacula seeds," George said. "We need them for the Skiving Snackboxes, but they're a Class C Non-Tradeable Substance, so we've been having a bit of trouble getting hold of them."

"Ten Galleons the lot, then, Dung?" Fred said.

"Wiv all the trouble I went to to get 'em?" Mundungus protested, his saggy, bloodshot eyes stretching even wider. "I'm sorry, lads, but I'm not taking a Knut under twenty."

"Dung likes his little joke," Fred said to Harry.

"Yeah, his best one so far has been six Sickles for a bag of Knarl quills," George said.

"Be careful," Harry warned them quietly. A gleam in his eyes, the Slytherin in Harry was coming out to play.

"What?" Fred asked. "Mum's busy cooing over Prefect Ron; we're okay."

"But Moody could have his eye on you," Harry pointed out slyly.

Mundungus looked nervously over his shoulder. "Good point, that," he grunted. "All right, lads, ten it is, if you'll take 'em quick."

"Cheers, Harry!" Fred said delightedly, when Mundungus had emptied his pockets into the twins' outstretched hands and scuttled off towards the food. "We'd better get these upstairs."

"Welcome," Harry watched them go, feeling slightly bored; he hoped they would be back soon. He wondered silently why he had never bothered with the twins much before; the longest he had spent with them really would be the Quidditch World Cup, until this summer. They were definitely more entertaining than Ron and Hermione, that was for sure; now that they were Prefects he was sure they would be off at meetings all the time, even if he was still their friend.

Standing where the twins had left him, with nothing for company, Harry caught the sound of his own name. Kingsley Shacklebolt's deep voice was audible even over the surrounding chatter. ". . . why Dumbledore didn't make Potter a prefect?" Kingsley was saying.

"He'll have had his reasons," Lupin replied.

"But it would've shown confidence in him. It's what I'd have done," Kingsley persisted, "’specially with the Daily Prophet having a go at him every few days..." Harry did not look round; he did not want Lupin or Kingsley to know he had heard.

Though not remotely hungry, he followed Mundungus back towards the table. Harry just wished he were upstairs in bed. Mad-Eye Moody was sniffing at a chicken-leg with what remained of his nose; evidently he could not detect any trace of poison, because he then tore a strip off it with his teeth.

"...the handle's made of Spanish oak with anti-jinx varnish and in-built vibration control..." Ron was saying to Tonks. Harry wanted to plug his ears, he never thought he'd see the day where he wanted someone to shut up about Quidditch or a broom. He had been hearing the same thing over and over again, Ron was telling absolutely everyone at the party. He wasn't jealous, hell no… he had a decent broom, thank you very much.

Mrs. Weasley yawned widely. "Well, I think I'll sort out that Boggart before I turn in... Arthur, I don't want this lot up too late, all right? Night, Harry, dear."

She left the kitchen. Harry set down his plate and was quietly making his way to the door, intending on going to his own bed. "You all right, Potter?" Moody grunted.

"Yeah, fine," lied Harry; of course Moody would see him honestly. Moody took a swig from his hipflask, his electric-blue eye staring sideways at Harry.

"Come here, I've got something that might interest you," he said. From an inner pocket of his robes Moody pulled a very tattered old wizarding photograph.

"Original Order of the Phoenix," Moody growled. "Found it last night when I was looking for my spare Invisibility Cloak, seeing as Podmore hasn't had the manners to return my best one . . . thought people might like to see it."

"Cool," Harry said, staring wide-eyed at the photo. It was the most he had been entertained all night.

Harry took the photograph. A small crowd of people, some waving at him, others lifting their glasses, looked back up at him. "There's me," Moody said, unnecessarily pointing at himself.

The Moody in the picture was unmistakeable, though his hair was slightly less grey and his nose was intact. "And there's Dumbledore beside me, Dedalus Diggle on the other side . . . that's Marlene McKinnon; she was killed two weeks after this was taken, they got her whole family. That's Frank and Alice Longbottom ..." Harry's stomach, already uncomfortable, clenched as he looked at Alice Longbottom; he knew her round, friendly face very well, even though he had never met her, because she was the image of her son, Neville. A boy who knew pain similar to his own, a boy who was lucky despite the fact that he thought otherwise― at least his family wanted him "―poor devils," growled Moody. "Better dead than what happened to them . . . and that's Emmeline Vance, you've met her, and that there's Lupin, obviously . . . Benjy Fenwick, he copped it too, we only ever found bits of him . . . shift aside there," he added, poking the picture, and the little photographic people edged sideways, so that those who were partially obscured could move to the front.

"That's Edgar Bones . . . brother of Amelia Bones; they got him and his family, too, he was a great wizard . . . Sturgis Podmore, blimey, he looks young . . . Caradoc Dearborn, vanished six months after this, we never found his body . . . Hagrid, of course, looks exactly the same as ever . . . Elphias Doge, you've met him, I'd forgotten he used to wear that stupid hat . . . Gideon Prewett; it took five Death Eaters to kill him and his brother Fabian, they fought like heroes . . . budge along, budge along . . ." The little people in the photograph jostled among themselves and those hidden right at the back appeared at the forefront of the picture. "That's Dumbledore's brother Aberforth, only time I ever met him, strange bloke . . . that's Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort killed her personally . . . Sirius, when he still had short hair . . . and . . . there you go, thought that would interest you!"

Harry's heart turned over. His mother and father were beaming up at him, sitting on either side of a small, watery-eyed man whom Harry recognised at once as Wormtail, the one who had betrayed his parents' whereabouts to Voldemort and so helped to bring about their deaths. Harry felt a sneer drop onto his face just staring at the disgusting man, he only wished he had torn the man limb from limb when he’d had the chance. However, he had done the stupid thing and opted for justice. And what happened when no good deed goes unpunished? Oh yeah, Voldemort gets brought back and the world endangered. He wasn't so fond of the picture now, in fact he regretted thinking it was the best entertainment he’d had all night.

"Eh?" Moody said. 

Harry looked up into Moody s heavily scarred and pitted face. Evidently Moody was under the impression he had just given Harry a bit of a treat.

"Yeah," Harry said, once again attempting to grin. "Er . . . listen, I've just remembered, I haven't packed my . . ."

He was spared the trouble of inventing an object he had not packed. Sirius had just said, "What's that you've got there, Mad-Eye?" and Moody had turned towards him.

Harry crossed the kitchen, slipped through the door and up the stairs before anyone could call him back. He did not know why it had been such a shock; he had seen pictures of his parents before, after all, and he had met Wormtail . . . but to have them sprung on him like that, when he was least expecting it . . . no one would like that, he thought angrily . . . And then, to see them surrounded by all those other happy faces . . . Benjy Fenwick, who had been found in bits, and Gideon Prewett, who had died like a hero, and the Longbottoms, who had been tortured into madness . . . all waving happily out of the photograph forever more, not knowing that they were doomed . . . well, Moody might find that interesting . . . he, Harry, found it disturbing... he tiptoed up the stairs in the hall past the stuffed elf-heads, glad to be on his own again, but as he approached the first landing, he heard noises. Someone was sobbing in the drawing room.

"Hello?" Harry said.

There was no answer, but the sobbing continued. He climbed the remaining stairs two at a time, walked across the landing, and opened the drawing-room door. Someone was cowering against the dark wall, her wand in her hand, her whole body shaking with sobs.

Sprawled on the dusty old carpet in a patch of moonlight, clearly dead, was Ron. Harry knew what was going on at once, he had just left Ron in the kitchen talking about that blasted new broomstick of his. Mrs. Weasley was the only other person to leave the party, as it had been termed, so this must be her worst fear.

"Mrs. Weasley?" Harry said loudly trying bring her out of her shocked state; it worked a bit.

"R - r - riddikulus!" Mrs. Weasley sobbed, pointing her shaking wand at Ron's body. Crack, Ron's body turned into Bill's, spread-eagled on his back, his eyes wide open and empty. Mrs Weasley sobbed harder than ever. "R - riddikulus!" she sobbed again.

Crack.

Mr. Weasley's body replaced Bill's, his glasses askew, a trickle of blood running down his face.

"No!" Mrs Weasley moaned. "No . . . riddikulus! Riddikulus! RID-DIKULUS!" Crack. Dead twins. Crack. Dead Percy. Crack. Dead Harry...

"Mrs. Weasley, just get out of here!" Harry shouted, staring down at his own dead body on the floor. "Let someone else..." he didn't get to finish because someone else joined him and the sobbing Mrs. Weasley.

"What's going on?" Lupin had come running into the room, closely followed by Sirius, with Moody stumping along behind them. Lupin looked from Mrs. Weasley to the dead Harry on the floor and seemed to understand in an instant. Pulling out his own wand, he said, very firmly and clearly: "Riddikulus!" Harry's body vanished. A silvery orb hung in the air over the spot where it had lain. Lupin waved his wand once more and the orb vanished in a puff of smoke.

"Oh - oh - oh!" Mrs. Weasley gulped, and she broke into a storm of crying, her face in her hands.

Harry just stood there, unable to think, unable to react; he must have been quite shocked. He left the room quickly, aware of Moody watching him go. Right now he couldn't care, he just had to get away. He headed straight for the room he was using, leaving Professor Lupin, Sirius, and Mad-Eye to deal with Molly. She was insisting she was “silly” and wondering what Harry thought of her; that was the last Harry heard. Once inside the room, he got his nightclothes on and slid straight to bed.

Despite being in bed his thoughts were running rampant. Molly had said nearly a week ago she thought of him as a son. The proof was in the Boggart, but Harry was confused; how could Molly love someone like a son when she hardly knew him? Was it the hero she loved? After all, the most time he had spent with her was a fortnight, in his third year. He had seen her two weeks of the summer before his second year, then the two weeks when he was staying in the Leaky Cauldron in his third year. There had been the week before and after the Quidditch World Cup in his fourth year, and then, of course, staying here. He had never spent much time in her company, so she hardly knew him; what was she doing thinking of him as a son? He was so confused that his head hurt with trying to think of it all. He hated the fact he didn't know if it was the hero she loved or him… he supposed it didn't matter now. There was one thing Harry hated, though, and that was the way all these people claiming to love him appeared in his life now, and yet he still remained with the Dursleys; they did what Dumbledore told them. He wondered if the Dursleys would be found before he had to return for next summer; if they weren't, where would Dumbledore send him? Back to Prince manor? That thought filled him with glee― he would so love to see the place again.

He missed the proper-speaking house-elves, their witty ways so much like Severus', actually. He missed his morning runs, being able to have food without being stared at, being able to read what he liked. He missed his training and, most surprisingly, most of all he missed Severus.

Who would have thought, eh?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to Jake and Jordre for editing this :)


	23. Chapter 23

A New Place To Stay 

Chapter 23 

Back At Hogwarts And Sneaking Down To The Dungeons To Speak To The Bat - A First For Everything. 

Harry woke up to Ron speaking to him for the first time in ages; he was telling him to hurry up, that they were going to miss the train. Harry didn't know how the hell he had slept through Mrs. Black's screeching; it was loud and like nails grating against a chalkboard. Harry quickly got dressed; thankfully everything was packed away, so all he had to do was grab his trunk and get Hedwig into her cage. As he left the room, he noticed Hermione coming out of her and Ginny's room looking flustered. She looked at Harry with so much sorrow that Harry wanted to forgive her. What if he was making the same mistake his mother made? Throwing away a friendship that should have lasted forever? He didn't know, and it was rather maddening. Shaking his thoughts off, he clambered down the stairs, his trunk thumping with every step it went down, causing even more noise than there was in the house. At least it drowned out the noise of Mrs. Black's awful screeching.

"Mad Eye's complaining we can’t leave unless Podmore's here," Hermione said to everyone.

"Guard? We're going to Kings' Cross with a guard?" Harry asked; that was very low-key, surely Voldemort wouldn't attack him? After all, he had been keeping quiet for months now, obviously wanting no one alerted to the fact he was back once more.

"You have to go to Kings Cross with a guard," Hermione corrected him without thinking and winced, but Harry had insisted on the truth, so she would give him it. He didn't like people keeping things from him... well, fine, she was going to give him the truth if it got her friendship with her stubborn boy back.

"Why?" Harry asked, looking irritated. "I thought Voldemort was supposed to be lying low. Or are you telling me he's going to jump out from behind a dustbin to try and do me in?" He snorted in amusement. It would be a sight to see, snake-like Voldemort jumping from behind dustbins to finish him off. No, Voldemort wouldn't do a thing like that. He liked theatrics, showing off; he had called all his followers the last time before trying to finish him off.

No doubt he would meet the snake-faced bastard at the end of the year as tradition so far dictated. Although that wasn't necessarily true; Voldemort hadn't made an appearance in his third year for once. He only wished that the Dementors hadn't been there and Pettigrew hadn't been a rat and who knew, maybe one of his years would have been normal for once.

"I doubt he would do that, Harry, but the truth is nobody knows what he might do," Hermione said softly just as Mrs. Weasley bellowed at them: "WILL YOU LOT GET DOWN HERE NOW, PLEASE!"

So they descended the last lot of steps and found themselves outside the kitchen door.

"Harry, you're to come with me and Tonks," Mrs. Weasley shouted. "Leave your trunk and your owl. Alastor's going to deal with the luggage… oh, for heaven's sake, Sirius, Dumbledore said no!" as she caught sight of a black Grim-like dog.

The dog wagged its tail and made its way to Harry's side, Harry said nothing to encourage or discourage him. He wasn't in a very good mood with Sirius; the fact that the magical strand was once again gone made it all the more obvious.

"Oh, honestly," Mrs. Weasley said despairingly. "Well, on your head be it!" she said, giving up completely on trying to control Sirius Black. The man did what he wanted at the end of the day, regardless of what anyone said. It looked like even Dumbledore couldn't make Sirius Black do anything either.

Wrenching open the door, they stepped out of Grimmauld Place. Harry stepped down the stairs, watching as the house disappeared from sight as soon as his feet touched the pavement. The dog stayed near his legs the entire time; it was the happiest Harry had seen Sirius since he had been brought there. He said nothing as Mrs. Weasley began leading him up the street. An old woman greeted them on the corner, and Harry gave a tiny smile right back at her.

"Wotcher, Harry," the old woman, who must be Tonks in disguise, said; it was a very great gift to have. It reminded Harry of the times his hair had always grown back… and he knew he was related to the Blacks very distantly; all purebloods were, according to Sirius. He was half pureblood, so that had to account for something. Another thing he might bring up to Severus― he smirked in irony at his own words. Just three months ago the thought of going to Severus with anything was enough to make him pee his pants in laughter. "We better hurry up, hadn't we, Molly?" Tonks said, rousing Harry from his thoughts.

"I know, I know," Mrs. Weasley moaned, lengthening her strides, "But Mad-Eye wanted to wait for Sturgis… if only Arthur could have got us cars from the Ministry again… but Fudge won't let him borrow so much as an empty ink bottle these days… how Muggles can stand travelling without magic…"

Padfoot barked, and then began chasing pigeons and his own tail, acting in a very dog-like manner. Despite himself, Harry laughed slightly― it was amusing, especially knowing it was a grown man acting silly. It took them twenty minutes to reach King's Cross, and nothing happened to them in that time other than Sirius chasing a few cats. Leaning casually against the barrier, he fell seamlessly through the magical barrier and into the platform no Muggle got to see.

"I hope the others make it in time," Mrs. Weasley said; she seemed to like fretting constantly. "Oh, good," she suddenly said. "Here's Alastor with the luggage, look…" she looked greatly relieved.

"All okay," Moody muttered to Molly and Tonks. "Don't think we were followed."

Seconds later Mr. Weasley emerged onto the platform with Ron and Hermione. They had almost unloaded Moody's luggage trolley when Fred, George, and Ginny turned up with Lupin.

"No trouble?" Moody growled; he must have been the most paranoid Wizard in the world. These days, though, Harry could bet that it was a good thing, although Mad-Eye wasn't as vigilant as he liked to think he was. Crouch had managed to capture him and keep him hostage for an entire year, locked in a trunk. He didn't say that to the old Auror, though, because he could bet the man would hex his ass off.

"Nothing," said Lupin.

"I'll still be reporting Sturgis to Dumbledore," grunted Moody "That's the second time he's not turned up in a week. Getting as unreliable as Mundungus." Which wasn't a good thing with this up-coming war.

"Well, look after yourselves," Lupin said, shaking hands all around. He reached Harry last and gave him a clap on the shoulder "You too, Harry. Be careful."

"Yeah, keep your head down and your eyes peeled," Moody said, shaking Harry's hand too. "And don't forget, all of you ― be careful what you put in writing. If in doubt, don't put it in a letter at all."

"It's been great meeting you all," Tonks said, hugging Hermione and Ginny like a long-lost friend or sister. "We'll see you soon, I expect."

The warning whistle sounded on the train, causing Mrs. Weasley to go once more into panic mode."Quick, quick!" she said, hugging them at random "Write… be good… if you've forgotten anything, we'll send it on… onto the train, now, hurry…"

"Bye!" Harry called out to everyone as he got onto the train, and before long it was chugging along on its way to Hogwarts for another year.

"Shall we go and find a compartment then?" Ginny asked once the train had gained more speed, making them sway slightly.

"We're, well… Ron and I are supposed to go into the Prefect carriage," Hermione said awkwardly.

"Come on, Ginny, let's find a compartment," Harry said, not even looking at them. Ron looked as though he wanted to say something, but he didn't get the chance. Harry walked with Ginny; he noticed that the staring and whispering had started up. It hadn't been this bad since he had entered Hogwarts as a first-year.

In the very last compartment they found Neville Longbottom, Harry's fellow fifth-year Gryffindor. He had his toad in his hand, and looked exhausted; he must have just found the compartment before they came along. They also noticed a blonde-haired girl; Ginny seemed to know who she was, but Harry was clueless.

"Hi, Luna, is it okay if we take these seats?" Ginny asked.

The girl looked up, and Harry noticed she had straggly, waist- length dirty-blonde hair, very pale eyebrows, and protuberant eyes that gave her a permanent surprised look. The girl gave off an aura of distinct dottiness. Perhaps it was because she had her wand stuck behind her ear, or that she had chosen to wear a necklace of Butterbeer corks, or that she was reading a magazine upside-down. Her eyes ranged over Neville and landed on Harry, and she nodded.

"Thank you," Harry said, smiling slightly at her. She might look or act dotty, but Harry would bet his entire fortune that she was extremely quick with her wand in dangerous situations. Everyone probably underestimated her, and Harry refused to do so as well; it wasn't fair to be judged on looks alone. Take him for example, everyone in Privet Drive had avoided him because of his dirty, overlarge clothes and his reputation of going to St. Brutus' every year.

"Had a good summer, Luna?" Ginny asked.

"Yes," Luna replied, "Yes, it was quite enjoyable, you know. You're Harry Potter."

"I know," Harry said dryly. "I've known that for fifteen years now."

Neville chuckled, causing Luna to turn her pale eyes on him instead. "I don't know who you are, though."

"I'm nobody," Neville hurriedly said.

"No, you're not!" Ginny said sharply, and Harry wasn't sure if she was sticking up for Neville because he thought he was nobody or angry at Neville for being the way he was with Luna. "Neville Longbottom ― Luna Lovegood. Luna's in my year, but in Ravenclaw."

So she was smart despite the way she spoke and acted… Harry knew there and then that there was more to Luna Lovegood than met the eye.

"Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure!" she said in a sing-song voice.

Harry laughed― that's what the Hat had said about Ravenclaw during the Sorting; yes, smart indeed. Ginny suppressed a giggle, and Neville just stared at Luna as if he didn't know what to make of the blonde-haired girl.

"Guess what I got for my birthday!" Neville said, looking happier.

"What?" Harry complied curiously.

"A Mimbulus mimbletonia," said Neville proudly.

"A plant?" Harry asked. He knew Neville loved Herbology, but he was truly happy to have received a plant for his birthday? What could he say? The best he'd gotten was a coat hanger and a pair of Uncle Vernon's old stuffy socks for his tenth birthday― that was the last time it had been remembered.

"Not just any plant! It's very rare! I don't think Professor Sprout even has one in her greenhouse!" Neville said proudly.

"Cool," Harry said, happy for his friend.

Just then the door of their compartment slid open, revealing Cho Chang, the girl Harry had asked to the dance just last year. He had had a crush on her, but she hadn't been interested; she had been dating Cedric Diggory. Thinking about the teenager made him feel guilty; he only wished he had taken the damn cup himself. Unfortunately he couldn't change a damn thing about it; he just had to learn to live with himself and the guilt he carried constantly.

"Hi, Harry," said Cho; she was the Ravenclaw Quidditch team's Seeker.

"Hi," Harry simply said. He no longer had a crush on her, but by the looks of things she had one on him now. Her face was going bright red as she stared at him; he had changed, of course.

"Um… well, I just thought I'd say hello… bye, then," she squeaked before she disappeared from their compartment.

Hermione and Ron were gone for nearly an hour; by then the trolley had already been by. Harry, Neville, Ginny, and Luna had already eaten their pumpkin pasties and were swapping chocolate frog cards. Harry had bought everything and shared it as he usually did; only he normally did this with Ron. Not this time.

"I'm starving!" Ron declared, stowing Pig next to Hedwig, and sitting down rather awkwardly next to Harry. He noticed there was nothing left; everything had been eaten and he looked devastated.

"So who's Prefects?" Ginny asked eagerly, wanting to get over the awkward silence that had descended over the group.

"Malfoy and Parkinson for Slytherin, MacMillan and Hannah Abbott for Hufflepuff, and Antony Goldstein and Padma Patil for Ravenclaw," answered Hermione.

"You went to the Yule Ball with Padma Patil," Luna remarked in a vague voice.

"Yeah, I remember," Harry said; he realized that Luna had a thing for stating the obvious.

"She didn't enjoy it very much," Luna went on to tell Harry, who wasn't surprised by what she had to say. "She didn't think you treated her very well, because you wouldn't dance with her. I don't think I'd have minded; I don't like dancing very much."

"Well, I know who to ask if there's another dance, then," Harry smirked in amusement.

Luna's jaw dropped; her jaw wasn't the only one to drop, everyone there seemed stunned by his sudden declaration. Honestly, they were acting like he had just asked her to marry him, for goodness sake. Luna thankfully got her act together and hid once more behind her Quibbler magazine... which was still upside down.

\------0

Harry had sat impatiently through the Sorting Hat's new song, and Dumbledore's speech, which had been interrupted by a woman wearing a ghastly pink cardigan with a cat brooch on it. Harry knew who that was; it must be the Defence teacher, the Ministry woman who had come to Hogwarts. It was she that he had been told to avoid; Severus must have thought it was important, and he would do his best not to let him down. Then he had to put up with Seamus’ telling him how his mother didn't want him back at Hogwarts... only because of him; Harry couldn't wait until Voldemort actually came out in the open. When people would be forced to realize HE was back, he was going to throw everything back in their disgusting, back-talking fucking faces.

Harry was furious as he hid behind his curtains, charming them to stay closed so nobody could disturb him. He stayed there, looking at the map; he noticed that after Severus' rounds he spent quite a bit of time in Dumbledore's office. It took ages for everyone to get to sleep! Although Dumbledore was still awake, still sitting in his chair in the Headmaster's office. Once he heard everyone's snoring at ten o'clock he got up quietly, put on his invisibility cloak, and snuck down the stairs towards the dungeons.

The irony wasn't lost on him… here he was, sneaking down to the Dungeons seeking out Severus Snape. Well, life certainly had changed since he had last been in these ancient halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. All he had on his person was a map of the school, his wand, his cloak, and a very ancient locket that he suspected had belonged to Salazar Slytherin. He had no idea how close to the truth he actually was, and he would be finding out very soon.

He knocked on Severus' door once before entering; he knew Severus wasn't stupid― he would know it was he. Nobody else in Hogwarts owned an invisibility cloak. He pulled off the cloak and faced Severus. Taking the pendant out, he put his hand out to let Severus take it.

Just then a house-elf popped in, trying to grab it from Harry's hand… Harry couldn't have been more stunned if it had been Voldemort himself standing there… It was Kreacher, and he was muttering under his breath that he was letting his master down, murmuring about someone called Regulus. He realized quite quickly that it was Regulus Black… Sirius' brother and a Death Eater to boot… another Death Eater that had wanted out… regretting what he had done.

Harry scrunched the locket in his hand so the house-elf couldn't get it, looking at Severus in apparent shock.

Severus' face was white as he stared at both of them ― he was for once in his life not sure what to do. Things had just gotten ten times more complicated. Kreacher was Black's house-elf and if it was reported they were both down here together…with a bloody suspected Horcrux no less... Yes, Severus wasn't stupid, he knew that would be the only reason Harry would risk coming down to see him. Plus he could feel the dark magic emanating from it― whether it was just a curse or a hex for those who opened it or a Horcrux was yet to be determined. If Black found out… He would tell Dumbledore, and that was something he wanted to avoid altogether.

Nobody could know he and Harry were getting on better. Least of all Sirius Black and Albus Bloody Dumbledore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Jordre and Jake for this awesome edit :)


	24. Chapter 24

A New Place To Stay 

Chapter 24

Kreacher A New Ally 

"Stop it right now!" Harry hissed, his fist clutched tightly around the locket. He would be damned if he let Kreacher get it; so this was what the old elf had been looking for. He looked at Severus to see him standing there frozen, completely stunned. Harry wondered if it was as bad as the black-haired man seemed to think. Then he himself remembered who owned Kreacher; he closed his eyes in annoyance. He also knew all house-elves could lie to their masters if they wanted to. Dobby had done it; of course he punished himself afterwards, but he still had done it.

"Must destroy it," Kreacher wheezed, biting Harry's hand and causing the teenager to yelp in agony. Despite Kreacher's attempts to make Harry loosen his hold, he failed. Harry had received worse than a bite over the years, so really it was nothing but a tickle.

"Kreacher... Kreacher, don't… stop! We want to destroy it too! We will destroy it, I promise. I'll give you my oath if need be!" Harry said, letting his arm go limp in the house-elf's hold.

"You want to destroy it?" Kreacher asked, giving Harry the same look as he had when they first met. Well, when he had muttered at how Harry had destroyed Voldemort, anyway.

"Yes, but you must promise not to tell Dumbledore or Sirius about this," Harry said, glad that the house-elf had finally stopped scratching and biting at him. He hoped that he didn't get any disease or anything from the bite either.

Kreacher stared at Harry as if he couldn't believe his ears; he had let his master down. He had not been able to destroy it like his master had wanted. For years he had tried and failed, yet here a boy was ― telling him he was going to destroy it. He had also stated he would swear an oath to do it too; it was mind-boggling.

"Kreacher, where did Regulus Black get this?" Severus asked with his eyes narrowed, a look of contemplation on his face. He couldn't believe a house-elf― a bloody house-elf! ― knew about the Horcruxes. This little thing had known all this time, and it was astounding to say the least. Severus had to find out what else this elf knew.

"I don't know," Kreacher said honestly, wringing his hands together in agitation and fear. "Master Regulus was told by the Dark Lord that he needed a house-elf. Master Regulus told me to go, he also told Kreacher to come back. The Dark Lord took me out to this cave, forced me to drink poison; the Dark Lord left Kreacher there to die. Master Regulus had ordered Kreacher to return, so I did what my master bid." Kreacher's eyes were wide with fear. He had never told anyone about this before.

"I'm so sorry, Kreacher, is that why Regulus died?" Harry asked, sadly staring at the house-elf in pity.

"No, Master Regulus wanted me to take him to the cave," Kreacher sobbed, falling to the floor obviously overwhelmed with what he was saying. "He forced poor Kreacher to feed him the potion, forced him to take the Horcrux and replace it with a fake. Then he ordered poor Kreacher to leave him there; Kreacher couldn't tell anyone, not even Mistress, who never knew what happened to her poor… poor son."

"What kind of potion?" Harry asked, mystified.

Severus looked pale and shaken. "Trust me, you do not want to know; it's one that must be consumed to get to the contents at the bottom. If you threw it in the water or anywhere else, it would appear right back in the bowl. It's a slow-acting poison that drives one completely insane before he meets his end."

"Did you create it?" Harry asked in surprise.

"I did; Regulus joined after me, he was a year younger, but he was well on his way to the inner circle," Severus admitted, looking sick; he wondered how Harry could continue looking at him. What surprised him more was the fact he had actually just told him the truth. Nobody knew the true extent of his actions during the war, not even Dumbledore. He wondered now what Harry thought of him; he wondered if the boy would ever look at him again. For some reason it hurt, the thought of Harry hating or distrusting him. He loved him, whether he liked to admit it or not, like a son. He waited with bated breath for Harry's green eyes to glare at him with disgust.

"Remind me not to get on your bad side," Harry said dryly, surprising Severus completely. His eyes widened before going back to their normal closed-off expression. Harry knew he should be disgusted, knew he should be wary of Severus. Unfortunately he didn't care. He knew Severus had done things he regretted, some things more than others; it didn't make Harry think any less of him for it. If his mum hadn't done what she did, maybe Severus wouldn't have been lost to the dark. Thinking along those lines made him think of Hermione, but this was the wrong time to think of this.

"I tried everything to destroy it," Kreacher said from where he lay, defeated.

"He raises a valid point, how do we destroy it?" Severus wondered, his lip curled in agitation.

"I have to go," Kreacher said, disappearing abruptly before Harry or Severus could stop him. He had obviously been summoned by Sirius Black.

"The diary was destroyed with a basilisk fang?" Harry suggested; it was more of a question than a statement really.

Severus' eyes gleamed in wickedness; he had been dying to get Harry to take him down to the Chamber of Secrets. Basilisk parts were valuable potion ingredients, rarer than even Phoenix parts. Of course, he wasn't a man to ask for anything, so this was his chance to go without asking. "Then we go get one,"

"What?" Harry asked, taken aback; he wasn't used to adults actually listening to him. Although this summer was a first― Severus had listened to him talk for hours, telling him things he had never dared tell anyone else, even about his encounters with Voldemort. If anyone could understand what he had been though, it would be Severus, so why not?

"We go retrieve one; it's dangerous leaving that lying around… we are not sure what it can do," Severus said, indicating the locket. " The diary itself is a good example of just how dangerous it could be," Severus continued. "So get the cloak on, and let's get going."

"Uh… okay," Harry nodded his head; it made complete sense to him. So he did what he was told― grabbing his cloak, he covered himself with it.

"Follow me," Severus instructed; he already knew where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets was. Unfortunately for him, he could not speak Parseltongue, or he would already have been down there by now. He opened his door and gave Harry enough time to get out, before it slammed shut with a loud bang, causing Harry to jump in fright. Thankfully he didn't make a sound, and Severus was unaware of how much he had rattled Harry. Harry hated banging doors; it meant trouble, always had, especially at the Dursleys'. He snarled inwardly; he hated thinking about the Dursleys here, he was safe. He had no idea that they were in Severus' office at Hogwarts disguised as three rats. It wasn't unusual; most Potions Masters used rats to test their potions on.

They managed to get around Hogwarts and into the haunted girls' bathroom without encountering anyone. This was unusual, especially for this time of night, there were usually at least two or three teachers roaming the halls. They probably wanted to avoid Umbridge, or just sit in shock that Umbridge had actually spoken over Dumbledore. If a student had done that, he wouldn't have seen the light of day for days. Severus would have ensured that; he loathed ill-mannered children. Someone obviously needed to teach Umbridge that she wasn't as important as she liked to think. Severus knew better than to go down that road, especially after the way Fudge had reacted to his showing his Dark Mark.

Dumbledore had already told him to keep his sarcasm to a bare minimum, that this “woman” didn't have a sense of humour, which, Severus felt, was an understatement. He wondered what Dumbledore would say if he knew how Severus truly felt about the pink blob. Then again, how he felt about her was nothing on how he felt about Dumbledore these days. He couldn't wait until the day came when he could tell the old fool what he really thought of him. He was dying to tell the Order just what their precious Dumbledore had done: leaving a child to be abused; it was just horrific really. Considering who Harry was and what he was destined to do made it ten times worse.

Severus was brought out of his dark thoughts when Harry began hissing. His hissing was different from Voldemort's; this sounded pure, pleasant, whereas Voldemort's was dark, dangerous, and evil. Suddenly loud clanging reverberated around the bathroom. Before the sink began moving, Severus knew this was normal. He had seen everything that had happened, which was why he didn't hesitate to slide down the hole. He did grimace at the feel of the dead fish bones under his feet. It sounded disgusting, and the smell was just rancid. He wondered how Harry had managed to stand it. Speaking of the boy, he had just joined him. He didn't seem perturbed by anything; he got straight up off the wet floor and began walking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Jordre and Jake for editing!


	25. Chapter 25

A New Place To Stay

Chapter 25 

The Legendary Chamber Of Secrets 

Severus Snape looked around, wearing an emotionless mask but inwardly awed. It just wasn't the same as being in a Pensieve. Here he was, actually in Salazar Slytherin's legendary Chamber of Secrets, a place only a few people knew existed, and even fewer had walked upon its grounds. It was as if he had found the holy grail. It wasn't often things could make Severus emotional, but this did. The fact he had just admitted something that no one else knew made him even more confused, conflicted, and awed by the fifteen-year-old boy who was currently leading him through the chamber. It wasn't the worst thing he had done by far, in his opinion anyway. Yet, all Harry had had to say was, “Remind me not to get on your bad side,” and that had been it. No disgust, hostility, or anger; if anything, it was as if his past didn't matter to Harry. He had never had that kind of luxury before, and he rather liked it. It made him feel as though his sins weren't as bad as he made them out to be. Or maybe it was just because Harry wasn't judging him by who he had been before, but who he was now. Harry hadn't even blamed him for his parents' death, when it was all his fault; just who was this child? He was blown away by him. He had never met anyone quite like him before in his life, and he doubted he ever would again.

"Do you think Kreacher will tell?" Harry asked, bringing Severus out of his thoughts. Harry had long ago abandoned his fear of asking questions during that month in the summer with Severus.

"No; the mission Regulus demanded of him will make him keep silent, he wants that thing destroyed more than he wants to tell," Severus said smoothly; at least he hoped so. They stopped short at another door. What surprised him was that it was closed; Harry hadn't closed it before leaving, something he had observed from the Pensieve. He got his answer after Harry hissed in Parseltongue, and they walked through. The door closed itself a few minutes after being opened.

Severus swallowed the words he so desperately wanted to let out; he was shocked at the size of the basilisk. Once again there was a difference from seeing something in the Pensieve; if he thought he’d been shocked by what he’d seen in the memory, it was nothing to seeing the beast in all its glory. Harry, still unperturbed, walked straight over to the stinking carcass and yanked one of its teeth from its mouth. There wasn't much known about Horcruxes, and most certainly no known way of destroying them. Severus still wondered where the Dark Lord had gotten the information on them. He supposed that was the main reason he'd done it, especially considering the fact that there was no known way to destroy them. Too bad for the Dark Lord that a twelve-year-old had figured out a way around that. It was a good thing really; he would never have thought about Basilisk venom. Basilisks were very uncommon, extremely rare, hence why people didn't think about them.

Severus picked up the tooth he knew Harry had used to destroy the Dark Lord's first Horcrux. He flicked his wand at it a few times, cleaning it up and putting a hole through the top of it. He picked up a small piece of debris and created a piece of strong black string from it. Transfiguration had never been his long suit, but he could do most simple things, like everyone else. He put the string through the hole in the tooth, before tying both ends together in a tight knot. He then walked over to Harry, and, without bothering to say anything first, he put it around Harry's neck, saying, "This saved your life and gave you the knowledge you need to save yourself. The power the dark lord knows not; maybe it will still save your life in the future. Keep it with you always." Then he shrank it to a more manageable size. It had been the size of Harry's fist, and it would have been uncomfortable to move while wearing it.

"Yes, sir," Harry said, swallowing sharply. He was very fast becoming fond of Severus; he couldn't imagine not going to him if he needed help. He was getting in too deep, he knew that, which wasn't a good thing. Severus was a spy; he was probably in more danger than Harry was, which was saying something. He was also quite fond of the saying “It's better to love and lose, than never to have loved at all;” he normally argued with the saying. He didn't think it was better to love then lose, he had always thought it was better just not to love at all. Now, though, he knew better; he'd have rather have this summer to remember, to spread his wings, to grow as a man, than to have had his usual terrible summer at the Dursleys'. Even if the thought of losing Severus was terrifying, he knew he'd rather know Severus like this than his mean, degrading, awful Potions Master ― whom he'd have been glad to see dead. His old thoughts made him cold and disgusted with himself; he wished he had thought more deeply.

"Good; now let's see if this works, shall we?" Severus said, swallowing sharply. He could see Harry was becoming attached to him. It was the same look Harry's mother had given him over the years, and it warmed and terrified him at the same time. Nothing good could come of this, he was damn sure of it. Yet he couldn't go back, he was just physically incapable of it.

"You need to open it, I think, so I'll use Parseltongue, then you stab it," Harry said, handing over the second fang, the one he had just taken from the basilisk's mouth. Taking a deep breath, he placed the locket on the floor before imagining a snake, and he began hissing once more the same word he used all the time― open― and the locket opened.

Severus didn't even hesitate for a second, he stabbed the locket, and black smoke escaped out of it. Loud, horrific screeching filled the chamber. The locket itself began sizzling and vibrating drastically until there was sudden silence. The locket lay there, now a useless piece of junk, when it should have been a family heirloom or a priceless artifact. "The diary was useless, something he probably bought or picked up, but this? This could be traceable… I know he's Slytherin's heir but did he own this? I mean, are there vaults for the heirs?"

"No; all things owned by the heirs have been in different families, families that are distantly related to the founders. You see, these are worth a fortune; too much temptation for people who no doubt wanted money. If I wanted to sell an item such as this… I'd go to Borgin and Burke's," said Severus thoughtfully, his onyx eyes staring penetratingly into the locket.

"Borgin and Burke? That shop," Harry shuddered in disgust.

"How would you know of such a shop?" Severus asked, his sharp eyes narrowing in on Harry's suspiciously.

"Er, my first floo'ing experience went awry; I somehow ended up in that shop, saw both Malfoys taking to a guy about something. I hid in the statue until I could get out of there; thankfully Hagrid was there that day. I got back into Diagon Alley before anything happened," Harry sheepishly replied.

Severus smirked in amusement; something like that would only happen to Harry Potter.

"If he used that, maybe he's in the habit of using other founders' stuff, or maybe just Salazar Slytherin's things. Sort of as a tribute to a man he likes being related to? I know he hates his father and that side of his family with all his being," Harry said thoughtfully.

"How would you know that?" Severus asked dryly, already having an idea.

"He told me," Harry shrugged. Now if it had been anyone else he had said that to, they would have been appalled or begun shuddering horrendously. Not Severus; he wasn't afraid of the monster; afraid of what he could do, but not of the Dark lord himself. There was a difference.

"Of course," Severus said, shaking his head in bitter amusement. And he began taking the basilisk to pieces, which would take hours to do.

"Can I help?" Harry asked, standing there feeling like a spare end. There weren't many moments like those in his life. Since he had been able to walk, he had been constantly on the move, doing one thing or another, to this day.

"You can't; you need to have experience in harvesting, especially with a carcass as priceless as this," Severus replied, reluctant to let Harry do it.

"Oh, all right then," Harry sighed. Looking around, he gazed thoughtfully at the mouth of the statue. He knew that opened; it was where the basilisk had originally come from... and he remembered what Tom Riddle had said to open it. Curiosity got the better of him; he hissed in Parseltongue, his green eyes gleaming in triumph as the mouth opened. Glancing back at Severus he saw that he was still intently carving up the snake; shrugging nonchalantly he walked into the mouth.

He was disappointed to see it was mostly like outside it, but he continued walking along the tunnel, undaunted. He noticed the change in temperature; it was getting warmer. Getting excited, he practically ran the rest of the way. He stopped short, completely stunned by the old-fashioned place he had just found himself in. On one side of the chamber was a huge pit with unlit wood at the bottom of it; the pit held a cauldron. On the other side was an everyday fireplace, which was currently lit. On the walls were hundreds of books that put even Hogwarts' library to shame. A lab was on another side, with a cauldron beside it; finally there was a seating area, full of green leather chairs and a wooden floor. There were unmoving portraits above both fireplaces. He looked at the huge hole he saw in the chamber wall opposite the entrance and saw writing over it. Unknown to Harry, it was parselscript; he read the words Saleena's den. Harry smiled sadly; so the snake's name had been Saleena, a girl basilisk. He felt awful for how violent its death had been. He wondered if he would have been able to talk the snake down, if he had just tried to speak to it. But it had been him against her, unfortunately, and he hadn't wanted to die― so it had to have been her.

"I'm sorry," Harry said sadly, tracing the name along the gold plaque, feeling a bit sorry for himself. He didn't know what drew him, but he felt a need to crawl through to the basilisk's lair. What met him on the other side stunned him to the core. He just stayed there, crouched on all fours staring at the egg in wonderment, and confusion. Grabbing the egg, a thought suddenly occurred to him; he backed out quickly before running out towards the main chamber.

"There might be another basilisk here," Harry shouted, skidding to a halt next to Severus.

"That's not possible, it would have smelt us by now," Severus objected, his eyes drawn to the egg before widening comically.

"She had to have had a mate for this to have been laid," Harry pointed out sarcastically.

"Do you remember the skin you saw? The one that was crushed with the tunnel roof falling?" asked Severus cautiously.

"I think so," Harry said; they had passed it, but everything surrounding the spot had been banished or repaired.

"Do you remember seeing bones? Or was it really just skin?" Severus asked intently.

"I have no idea! I was twelve; I wasn't thinking about things like that," Harry replied, a hysterical edge appearing in his voice.

"Considering there is no other shed skin here, I'd say it's safe to assume it was the male," Severus said calmly.

"The baby basilisk is dead, isn't it?" Harry sadly asked. It had to be, or it would have hatched before this, surely? It had been two years since he had killed its mother.

"I have no idea how long it takes for a basilisk to break from its egg," Severus said grimly.

"Salazar Slytherin's private chambers are down here," Harry said out of the blue.

"What?" Severus practically yelped, standing up straight, stunned.

"Er, there's a private chamber in there," Harry said pointing towards the open mouth of the statue. Harry had never seen Severus so stunned yet so amazed and hyper before in his life. His onyx eyes were sparkling even in the dark, wet chamber. Harry was amazed, it took a lot to surprise Severus; he was blessed, though, with being the one to share it with him.

"I shall investigate it more thoroughly in five minutes," Severus said, practically rushing his current job in favour of seeing Salazar's private chamber more closely. He was confused though; why had the Dark Lord left it there? Why had he never returned for it? Surely Salazar had some worthy books, books that the Dark Lord would die for.

"All right," Harry said, keeping a hold on the egg. He wrapped it up in his cloak, wanting to warm it just in case it was alive. He wasn't about to risk it; he had killed its mother, and maybe the baby through his actions. He could only hope that it was alive, or he would forever feel guilty. Harry snorted mentally at his own thoughts. He knew Severus would have slapped him on the back of his head for his thoughts, or at least sneered at him about being “such a Gryffindor,” so he shoved them from his mind and concentrated on here and now.

After half an hour Severus was finally finished; the huge basilisk was now in jars or plastic bags and placed into a bag that was charmed bottomless. There was absolutely nothing left on the floor from Harry's adventure when he was twelve years old. Harry felt a sudden and surprising rush of loss at that; he couldn't explain it either, not even to himself. Harry picked up the locket as an afterthought, and put it into his pocket.

As both man and teen walked towards Salazar's domain, Harry picked up on something that was bothering him. "I think we should get the Diary back, and destroy it completely. I don't want Dumbledore finding out about the Horcruxes," Harry said quietly.

"He probably already knows," Severus bitterly commented.

"Maybe not; I'd rather not take the chance that he figures it out," Harry argued. "I still can't believe he ended up with it again. It's probably why he took Dobby on, to get his hands on it."

"Perhaps," Severus agreed as he walked through the open mouth. Something was telling him to listen to Harry, warning him that if Dumbledore did find out, things would get worse. That not only would it make things ten times worse, Harry would be put in the centre of it. It was that thinking that decided it, he would get Dobby to fetch the diary back and he'd set fire to it. He didn't want anything happening to Harry, especially not when it came to Dumbledore's manipulations. What would he have done? Heaped it on a teenager's shoulders, made him swear not to tell anyone else, and force Harry to hunt them down after he got out of Hogwarts? Not on his bloody watch.

"You think I'm being stupid?" Harry asked as they entered Salazar's personal chamber.

"No, I actually think you are being very smart and very Slytherin right now. You are correct; we should get the diary back," Severus said. It felt odd to Severus, being so open and praising someone he would have rather debased a few months ago. Hell, before this he had constantly sneered at even Dumbledore; he didn't talk to anyone... or rather he hadn't. Harry was bringing out a side to him he hadn't known before, and he wasn't at all comfortable with it yet.

"Oh," Harry said, stunned. He wasn't used to people actually listening to him, not even his best friends the majority of the time. Especially not adults; he felt warmed inside just thinking about the way he was treated by Severus. Being listened to was definitely a new experience, and one he wanted to savor. His indigo-and-red strand for Severus pulsed even thicker as he acknowledged that.

Severus walked over to the cauldron and just looked at it in awe; no doubt this was the old-fashioned way Salazar Slytherin would have brewed. Lighting a fire, and stirring a huge spoon in the cauldron to create new potions. He could almost see it in his mind's eye; to him it was the most beautiful sight in the world. Even if it didn't look like much to others, he felt honoured to be here in a place that was solely Salazar Slytherin's. He walked around the room, his finger delicately going from book to book as he read the titles in speechlessness. He was brought out of his wanderings by hearing a stifled yawn from his companion.

"Come, it's far too late to stay here any longer, we both need to sleep. I wonder…" Severus said smoothly, "if this fireplace is connected to the Floo?"

"Uh… aren't the floo networks monitored?" asked Harry cautiously.

"I doubt this one is even registered; it wouldn't have been much of a secret hideout if anyone could access it. It's very unfortunate we do not know the floo's password, or we could come up and down from any fireplace at Hogwarts without going into the girls' lavatory every time," Severus said derisively.

"Isn't there a way to find out?" Harry asked curiously.

"No, not unless he has it written down somewhere here," Severus replied. It was killing him to leave all this behind. Good news for him was the fact that it would all still be there for next time. He didn't dare remove any of it and place it in his quarters. As safe as he thought they were, he wasn't about to risk it for anything, especially with the betrayal he felt at Dumbledore's actions regarding Harry.

"I suppose so," Harry replied stifling yet another yawn― he was completely exhausted.

"Let's go," Severus said standing in the fireplace, waiting for Harry to get in. Once that was done he called out their destination. They found themselves back in Severus' quarters... a place Harry had never seen before, and a place he still didn't get to see for long. Severus took him back through his office, then to his classroom. He accompanied Harry all the way back to his dormitory just to make sure he did indeed go back to bed. When he got back to his office he saw he still had the map; he curiously looked over it. This would come in handy... When he saw the names of two certain people he cursed. If he gave this back to Harry, he had to get rid of the Dursleys. His personal lab came up showing Vernon and Petunia Dursley; he was surprised Harry hadn't noticed it yet.

He had taken pity on Dudley Dursley; despite the way he had treated Harry, he wasn't entirely in the wrong. He was a child, not an adult, so he had Obliviated Dudley of every memory and handed him over to a Muggle hospital. Since he had no memories of who he was, nobody could locate him, which meant he was safe. Dudley had also lost a lot of weight, which meant the photos that would no doubt be distributed in the Muggle world would be useless. The Muggle police would be looking for the family, since they had vanished from the face of the earth together. He realized he was going to have to take the Dursleys back to Prince Manor and make sure the elves fed them. Things had become much more complicated than he wanted right now, but there was nothing to be done.

"Orchid?" Severus called smoothly.

"Yes, sir?" the house-elf asked, popping out of nowhere.

"Take the two rats that are in my potions lab back to my private lab at home; ensure they are fed as well," Severus directed.

"Yes, sir," Orchid obediently said. Severus watched as the names were erased from the map; they were gone, and his secret was safe for now. He probably would be better off killing them; it was a risk keeping them alive. However, he wanted them to suffer for the hell they had put a defenceless child through for years. Some things didn't change; Severus was still as ruthless as ever when it came to someone he loved.

"Dobby?" Severus shouted, as he watched the map.

"Yes Master Severus sir?" Dobby happily squeaked.

"I need you to retrieve the diary again," Severus told the elf, "He's currently sleeping if you wish to get it now."

"Yes sir," Dobby said before popping out. He came back not even two minutes later with the diary and placed it in the teacher's hand before popping away.

\--------0

"Hi," Harry said, moving across to his own trunk and opening it. He was tired; he hadn't gotten much sleep last night, and here he was getting up and ready for first day of classes. His masks were fully up and he was once more playing his part to perfection ― the world wanted a Gryffindor hero, well, they would get one.

"Hey, Harry," Dean said, taking off a pair of pyjamas― they were West Ham colours, a Muggle football team. "Good holiday?"

"Not bad," Harry muttered. Well, unfortunately he couldn't tell them the truth, that he had had the best holiday ever. So he settled for what he normally told them, which was, of course, “not bad;” then he would ask them how their holiday had gone. "You?"

"Yeah, it was okay," Dean chuckled. "Better than Seamus' anyway, he was telling me."

"Why? What happened, Seamus?" Neville also looked tired as he groggily got his own clothes and checked his plant.

"Me mam didn't want me to come back," replied Seamus

"What?" said Harry, confused.

"She didn't want me to come back to Hogwarts," said Seamus

"But… why?" Harry asked, astonished. He knew that Seamus' mother was a witch and could not understand why she should have come over so Dursley-ish. Seamus did not answer until he had finished unbuttoning his pyjamas.

"Well," he replied "I suppose … because of you."

"What d'you mean?" Harry had to quickly stop himself from sneering defensively at the boy. It really was much harder than he thought possible, going back to his usual hero mask. Especially after spending so long in Severus' company; centering himself, occluding, he breathed deeply and controlled himself.

"Well," Seamus hesitated again, still avoiding Harry's eyes, "she … er … well, it's not just you, it's Dumbledore too …"

"She believes the Daily Prophet?" Harry said sarcastically. "She thinks I'm a liar and Dumbledore's an old fool?" Well, Harry believed the old fool part, but added manipulative mentally onto that… but to have his own roommate accusing him of lying rubbed him up the wrong way.

Seamus looked up at him. "Yeah, something like that."

"Brilliant," Harry ground out; this was going to be the best year yet, he thought sarcastically to himself.

"Look … what did happen that night when … you know, when … with Cedric Diggory and all?" Seamus sounded nervous and eager at the same time. Dean, who had been bending over his trunk, trying to retrieve his tie, went oddly still and Harry knew he was listening hard.

"I killed him and decided to tell everyone Voldemort was back for grins and giggles," Harry snapped, storming out of his dorm room already dressed.

\---------0

"It wasn't true, was it, Harry? What you said up the stairs?" Neville asked, looking nervous and scared.

"No. I'm just going to start telling people what they want to hear; when the truth comes out, they'll all be sorry," said Harry, breathing heavily through his nostrils.

"I knew it. So does my Gran; she's stopped reading the paper," said Neville, feeling better now that he knew Harry hadn't been lying the whole time.

"What did you say to Seamus, mate? He's practically beaming up there, telling people you lied!" Ron gaped, sitting down and showing off his shiny Prefect's badge.

"Leave me alone," Harry said, eating the sort of food Severus had been giving him before, at Prince Manor. He had no doubt even if Severus' eyes weren't on him, he would still see everything. Harry was convinced Severus had eyes at the back of his head.

"You had a falling out again?" Neville asked in exasperation.

"A permanent one," Harry angrily sniped.

Neville's eyebrows rose in alarm, wondering what on earth had happened to cause that. He began to feel very uncomfortable stuck between them, with Ron on his right and Harry on his left. Ron wasn't eating much, which indicated he was extremely distressed by Harry's words. Ron liked nothing more than to eat more than his fair share of food at Hogwarts.

Once they'd finished eating, Ron and Hermione left to take the first-years to their classes, per Hermione's request that the Prefects help the first-years. Nobody had helped them get to their classes, which was why Hermione wanted to help this group.

"What happened between you and Ron, mate?" Neville asked. He was slowly gaining more confidence each year he was at Hogwarts.

"They ignored me all summer," Harry honestly replied.

"Oh, so did I, I guess," Neville said, flushing bright red.

"We've never been in touch over the summer, though, Neville; they followed Dumbledore's lead and left me to fend for myself," Harry replied. He loved his friends almost as much as he hated them right now.

"What do you have first?" Neville asked, seeing Harry had his timetable already on the table. His was probably somewhere in his bag or in his dorm. He was forever losing things, and he hated how clumsy he was too.

"Defence with Umbridge," Harry muttered warily. This was going to be a tough one, that was for sure. The Ministry hated him, and he knew she would too; it was just the matter of what she would say or do.

"Hermione's right, the Ministry really is trying to keep us quiet!" Neville complained, shaking his head in dismay.

"Probably," Harry said. They were in for a disappointment if they expected him to rise to the bait; as with Seamus, he was going to tell everyone what they wanted to hear. They would soon learn the truth; Voldemort wasn't going to remain quiet and unseen for long. He wondered, though, if he did confess to supposedly killing Diggory, if he'd end up on trial… perhaps with Veritaserum and then the truth would be known? It was a good idea, one he had to think some more on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To my amazing editors - thank you for your hard work on the chapters in getting them better :)


	26. Chapter 26

A New Place To Stay  
Chapter 26   
Defence with Umbridge and Potions with Snape: Which was worse? 

 

Neville walked with Harry towards the Defence classroom; he felt sorry for the teenager. There seemed to be a new burden on his shoulders, one that, even as clumsy as Neville was, he noticed. Could it really be the effect of his friends? It was probably Cedric’s dying. He had paled earlier when he had seen Cho, though Ron had attacked her about her Quidditch team for some reason. Harry had hidden behind Neville, which wasn't an easy feat now. He was taller than the other boy, and had filled out quite nicely too. He wasn't any longer the short skinny boy he had been before he’d left for the summer. A lot of the girls had been gaping at him, although Neville wasn't sure if it was because of the whole Voldemort thing, or his looks. Neville decided not to tell Harry; his friend obviously had a lot on his shoulders right now.

When they entered the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, the teacher was sitting at her table. She had that same gaudy pink cardigan on that she’d worn at the feast. Everyone quietly took their seats; Hermione had told everyone who would listen, exactly why Umbridge was here, or why she thought she was here. Hermione looked really angry, sitting there with her books and wand out as was usual for Defence class. Harry avoided sitting next to Hermione and Ron, instead choosing to sit next to Neville. Ron looked pretty depressed; Harry’s falling out with him was obviously hitting him rather hard.

"Well, good morning!" Professor Umbridge said quite cheerfully, as if she was happy to have them all in her class.

A few people murmured 'good morning' right back; unfortunately they were still quite tired, too tired to really muster up a better reply. Not that it would have been different if they had been here in the afternoon. They weren't sure what to make of Professor Umbridge at all; she was a Ministry worker― why did she want to teach at Hogwarts?

"Tut, tut," Umbridge reproved them, "That won't do, now, will it? I should like you, please, to reply 'Good morning, Professor Umbridge.' One more time, please. Good morning, class!"

"Good morning, Professor Umbridge," chanted the students right back.

Harry was barely withholding a sneer, what did she think they were? Five-year-olds, back at primary school? He thought not. She obviously hadn't taught teenagers before; she hadn't even taught a class and he was beginning to hate her already.

"There, now," Umbridge said sweetly, "That wasn't too difficult was it? Wands away, quills out, please." Grimaces went all around; all classes requiring quills were boring, unless you were a Ravenclaw or Hermione. Harry hadn't even removed his wand, so he grabbed his writing implements from his bag, and waited impatiently for the class to be over. One thing he was glad for, Umbridge shouldn't want to kill him… well, he hoped so anyway. All his Defence teachers had wanted to kill him, apart from Remus Lupin, that was.

But Umbridge rapped the blackboard with her wand, and a message appeared.

Defence Against the Dark Arts

A Return to Basic Principles.

"Well now, your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn't it?" Professor Umbridge stated, turning to face the class with her hands clasped neatly in front of her. "The constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any Ministry-approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see in your O.W.L. year.

"You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centred, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year. Copy down the following, please."

She rapped the blackboard again; the first message vanished and was replaced by:

Course aims:

1\. Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic.

2\. Learning to recognize situations in which defensive magic can legally be used.

3\. Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use.

For a couple of minutes the room was full of the sound of scratching quills on parchment. When everyone had copied down Professor Umbridge's three course aims she said, "Has everybody got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

There was a dull murmur of assent throughout the class.

"I think we'll try that again," Professor Umbridge said. "When I ask you a question, I should like you to reply, 'Yes, Professor Umbridge,' or 'No, Professor Umbridge.' So, has everyone got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

"Yes, Professor Umbridge," rang through the room.

"Good," Professor Umbridge beamed. "I should like you to turn to page five and read chapter one, 'Basics for Beginners.' There will be no need to talk."

Professor Umbridge left the blackboard and settled herself in the chair behind the teacher's desk, observing them all with those toad's eyes. Harry turned to page five of his copy of Defensive Magical Theory and started to read. He was going to make Severus proud, he wasn't about to start anything. He would keep his eyes down, do what he was told, avoid detention or risk of suspension from her. The Minister wasn't exactly someone he wanted to cross, not right now, anyway.

It was desperately dull, quite as bad as listening to Professor Binns. He felt his concentration sliding away from him; he had soon read the same line half a dozen times without taking in more than the first few words. Several silent minutes passed. Next to him, Ron was absent-mindedly turning his quill over and over in his fingers, staring at the same spot on the page. Harry looked to his right and received a surprise to shake him out of his stupor. Hermione had not even opened her copy of Defensive Magical Theory. She was staring fixedly at Professor Umbridge with her hand in the air. Harry shook his head; he wasn't going to get involved in this. If Hermione wanted to get in trouble, then so be it, it was her prerogative.

Harry could not remember Hermione ever neglecting to read when instructed to, or indeed resisting the temptation to open any book that came under her nose. He looked at her and shook his head in warning, but she merely shook her head at him slightly to indicate that she was not about to give in, and continued to stare at Professor Umbridge, who was looking just as resolutely in another direction.

After several more minutes had passed, however, Harry was not the only one watching Hermione. The chapter they had been instructed to read was so tedious that more and more people were choosing to watch Hermione's mute attempt to catch Professor Umbridge's eye than to struggle on with "Basics for Beginners."

When more than half the class were staring at Hermione rather than at their books, Professor Umbridge seemed to decide that she could ignore the situation no longer.

"Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?" she asked Hermione, as though she had only just noticed her.

"Not about the chapter, no," Hermione said.

"Well, we're reading just now," Professor Umbridge told her, showing her small, pointed teeth. "If you have other queries, we can deal with them at the end of class."

"I've got a query about your course aims," Hermione responded.

Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows.

"And your name is —?"

"Hermione Granger," said Hermione.

"Well, Miss Granger, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully," Professor Umbridge said in a voice of determined sweetness.

"Well, I don't," Hermione retorted bluntly. "There's nothing written up there about using defensive spells."

There was a short silence in which many members of the class turned their heads to frown at the three course aims still written on the blackboard.

"Using defensive spells?" Professor Umbridge repeated with a little laugh. "Why, I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to use a defensive spell, Miss Granger. You surely aren't expecting to be attacked during class?"

"We're not going to use magic?" Ron ejaculated loudly.

"Students raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class, Mr. —?"

"Weasley," Ron said, thrusting his hand into the air.

Professor Umbridge, smiling still more widely, turned her back on him.

"Yes, Miss Granger? You wanted to ask something else?"

"Yes," Hermione said determinedly. "Surely the whole point of Defence Against the Dark Arts is to practice defensive spells?"

"Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Granger?" Professor Umbridge asked in her falsely sweet voice.

"No, but —"

"Well then, I'm afraid you are not qualified to decide what the 'whole point' of any class is. Wizards much older and cleverer than you have devised our new program of study. You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way —"

"And your name is?" Professor Umbridge said to Dean.

"Dean Thomas."

"Well, Mr. Thomas?"

"If we're going to be attacked, it won't be risk-free —" he argued.

"I repeat," Professor Umbridge said, smiling in a very irritating fashion at Dean, "do you expect to be attacked during my classes?"

"No, but —"

Professor Umbridge talked over him.

"I do not wish to criticize the way things have been run in this school," she said, an unconvincing smile stretching her wide mouth, "but you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed — not to mention," she gave a nasty little laugh, "extremely dangerous half-breeds."

"If you mean Professor Lupin," piped up Dean Thomas angrily, "he was the best we ever —"

"Hand, Mr. Thomas! As I was saying — you have been introduced to spells that have been complex, inappropriate to your age group, and potentially lethal. You have been frightened into believing that you are likely to meet Dark attacks every other day —"

"No, we haven't," Hermione said, "we just —"

"Your hand is not up, Miss Granger!"

Hermione put up her hand; Professor Umbridge turned away from her.

"It is my understanding that my predecessor not only performed illegal curses in front of you, he actually performed them on you —"

"Well, he turned out to be a maniac, didn't he?" Dean Thomas said hotly. "Mind you, we still learned loads —"

"Your hand is not up, Mr. Thomas!" Professor Umbridge trilled. "Now, it is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be more than sufficient to get you through your examination, which, after all, is what school is all about. And your name is?" she added, staring at Parvati, whose hand had just shot up.

"Parvati Patil, and isn't there a practical bit in our Defence Against the Dark Arts O.W.L.s? Aren't we supposed to show that we can actually do the counter curses and things?"

"As long as you have studied the theory hard enough, there is no reason why you should not be able to perform the spells under carefully controlled examination conditions," Professor Umbridge said dismissively.

"Without ever practicing them beforehand?" Parvati asked incredulously. "Are you telling us that the first time we'll get to do the spells will be during our exam?"

"I repeat, as long as you have studied the theory hard enough —"

"And what good's theory going to be in the real world?" Harry said quietly, his fist in the air. He was speaking for the first time, and he made sure his argument was going to be sound. He was also going to try to remain respectful to the disgusting little toad.

Professor Umbridge looked up.

"This is school, Mr. Potter, not the real world," she said softly.

"So we're not supposed to be prepared for what's waiting out there?" Harry asked in incredulity.

"There is nothing waiting out there, Mr. Potter."

"Then may I ask how the Aurors manage to keep their jobs? If there aren't bad people out there?" said Harry.

"Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?" Professor Umbridge inquired in a horribly honeyed voice.

"So a school child has never been injured or hurt before? Not even at Hogwarts? No offence, Professor Umbridge, but have you met Moaning Myrtle? She was a girl who didn't get the chance to graduate from Hogwarts… she was killed mysteriously right here…" Harry said.

Ron and Hermione were giving Harry weird looks, considering they knew his temper. It was very unlike Harry to argue with such sound logic. Both of his ex-best friends didn't know what to make of this Harry. Plus there was the fact that he hadn't mentioned Voldemort, not even once. This wasn't the Harry they had known before Hogwarts finished up; he had been loud, opinionated, and angry with anyone who dared accuse him of bad things.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter."

The classroom was silent and still. Everyone was staring at either Umbridge or Harry.

"Now, let me make a few things quite plain."

Professor Umbridge stood up and leaned toward them, her stubby-fingered hands splayed on her desk.

"You have been told that a certain Dark wizard has returned from the dead —"

Harry gave half a smirk as he sat there. He hadn't even mentioned his name, yet she was bringing him up. Stifling a yawn, he was surprised when Umbridge spoke again.

"Mr.-Potter-you-have-already-lost-your-House-ten-points-do-not-make-matters-worse-for-yourself," Professor Umbridge said in one breath without looking at him. "As I was saying, you have been informed that a certain Dark wizard is at large once again. This is a lie.

"The Ministry of Magic guarantees that you are not in danger from any Dark wizard. If you are still worried, by all means come and see me outside class hours. If someone is alarming you with fibs about reborn Dark wizards, I would like to hear about it. I am here to help. I am your friend. And now, you will kindly continue your reading. Page five, 'Basics for Beginners.' "

The entire class was looking at Harry as if they expected him to start off on her, get angry. Harry was angry, in fact he was furious; what the hell did they think happened to Cedric Diggory, then? How could they ignore it? Oh, he knew the answer to that, Severus had told him at the beginning of the summer. People were scared, so scared they would rather believe him a liar. This wasn't doing them any good though; people were going to die if they didn't get their arses into gear and fight! But what could he do? They all believed him a liar… if there was something… someway that would prove to them all that he was telling the truth, he would do it. Breathing heavily through his nostrils, he clutched the book pretending to read, re-gathering his lost composure. He wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of letting her know she had gotten to him.

To say the rest of the class was in stunned silence was like saying Voldemort had walked in and said he liked her pink cardigan and wanted to marry her. Which was as likely as everyone believing him at lunch time, about Voldemort returning.

To make matters worse… he was going to be attending Potions and be forced to blow up his potions… again. He rather hoped Severus would grade him fairly now… it wasn't as if everyone saw his grade… and Severus knew how good he was at potions now. He held onto the miniature basilisk tooth and smiled slightly. He wasn't used to being treated so well… it was so brilliant and refreshing and great… he could say a million more things, he loved being treated like someone's son. Or as close as he would ever come to it really. He came first to Severus, or maybe second; he was a spy right now, after all. He wasn't sure what his status was, but it was further up than he had ever been on anyone's list. Well, except Dumbledore's, but that wasn't a list he wanted to be on. To be treated like an adult, someone that listened to him, looked after him and did things for him. Even something as small as shrinking a basilisk fang, made Harry feel over the moon. It was thinking like this that helped him keep silent throughout the rest of his Defence class, ignoring all the looks he was receiving, even from the Slytherin side.

Harry had noticed, though, that Draco Malfoy wouldn't even meet his eyes... not once since they had returned to Hogwarts.

\----0

He filed into the classroom behind Ron and Hermione and followed them to their usual table at the back, ignoring the huffy, irritable noises now issuing from both of them. They were either annoyed at him for ignoring them, or they had been arguing... again. He wasn't sure what it was about, but he wasn't interested in it. For once he wasn't the third wheel when they got into arguments, and that suited him just fine. Neville, of course, had to go to his usual seat too; Severus wouldn't be too happy if he played up too soon in the lesson.

"Settle down," Snape said coldly, shutting the door behind himself.

There was no real need for the call to order; the moment the class had heard the door close, quiet had fallen, and all fidgeting had stopped. Snape's mere presence was usually enough to ensure a class's silence.

"Before we begin today's lesson," Snape said, sweeping over to his desk and staring around at them all, "I think it appropriate to remind you that next June you will be sitting an important examination, during which you will prove how much you have learned about the composition and use of magical potions. Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are, I expect you all to scrape an 'Acceptable' in your O.W.L., or suffer my … displeasure."

His gaze lingered this time upon Neville, who gulped. For once Harry had to stamp down the urge to defend Neville. Severus was really unnecessarily cruel to him; he actually would have preferred Severus to pick on him. At least he knew he wasn't doing it out of sheer malice… or at least he didn't think so. What could Severus have against Neville? Neither of his parents had bothered Severus in school, or at least, he didn't think so.

"After this year, of course, many of you will cease studying with me," Snape went on. "I take only the very best into my N.E.W.T. Potions class, which means that some of us will certainly be saying good-bye."

His eyes rested on Harry and his lip curled. Harry glared back, with all the force he could muster. Meanwhile, a big measure of respect bloomed in Harry; Severus was good at what he did. Harry, if he hadn't spent the summer with him, or seen him down the chamber, wouldn't have been able to tell the difference. In fact, if Harry hadn't had such a good head on his shoulders, he would have thought it all a bizarre dream.

"But we have another year to go before that happy moment of farewell," Snape softly said, "so whether you are intending to attempt N.E.W.T. or not, I advise all of you to concentrate your efforts upon maintaining the high pass-level I have come to expect from my O.W.L. students.

Harry withheld a smirk; he knew he would pass his O.W.L.s just fine, and maybe his N.E.W.T.s too. Although if this was going to continue, he wasn't sure how long he could remain unaffected by Severus' acid tongue. He was as he had said, very good at what he did. He was used to being treated like crap, he expected it... but he didn't know if he could take it. Not now that he finally had an adult who treated him the way he’d always imagined being treated all his life ― like a son, as if he mattered.

"Today we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at Ordinary Wizarding Levels: the Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation. Be warned: If you are too heavy-handed with the ingredients, you will put the drinker into a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep, so you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing." On Harry's left, Hermione sat up a little straighter, her expression one of the utmost attentiveness. "The ingredients and method" — Snape flicked his wand — "are on the blackboard" — the writing was exactly like Severus' as it appeared on the blackboard — "you will find everything you need" — he flicked his wand again — "in the store cupboard" — the door of the student cupboard sprang open — "you have an hour and a half. … Start."

The ingredients had to be added to the cauldron in precisely the right order and quantities; the mixture had to be stirred exactly the right number of times, firstly in clockwise, then in counter-clockwise directions; the heat of the flames on which it was simmering had to be lowered to exactly the right level for a specific number of minutes before the final ingredient was added. Harry had to think quickly about what ingredient not to add to screw it up. It truly was harder than he thought to get back into the whole 'Harry Potter' façade.

"A light silver vapour should now be rising from your potion," Snape called, with ten minutes left to go.

Harry, who was, supposedly for show, sweating profusely, looked desperately around the dungeon. His own cauldron was issuing copious amounts of dark gray steam; Ron's was spitting green sparks. Seamus was feverishly prodding the flames at the base of his cauldron with the tip of his wand, as they had gone out. The surface of Hermione's potion, however, was a shimmering mist of silver vapour (Harry envied Hermione then, at least she didn't have to hide how good she was), and as Snape swept by he looked down his hooked nose at it without comment, which meant that he could find nothing to criticize. At Harry's cauldron, however, Snape stopped, looking down at Harry with a horrible smirk on his face.

"Potter, what is this supposed to be?"

The Slytherins at the front of the class all looked up eagerly; they loved hearing Snape taunt Harry. Draco though, surprisingly enough, merely continued on with his potion, not even glancing up at his godfather or his 'scar-headed' nemesis.

"The Draught of Peace," Harry tensely replied.

"Tell me, Potter," Snape asked softly, "can you read?"

"Yes, I can," Harry said, his eyes narrowed in anger, which was easy enough thinking about Umbridge.

"Read the third line of the instructions for me, Potter."

"Add powdered moonstone, stir three times counter clockwise, allow to simmer for seven minutes, and then add two drops of syrup of hellebore." He had not added syrup of hellebore, but had proceeded straight to the fourth line of the instructions after allowing his potion to simmer for seven minutes. He knew it would mess it up enough, without causing any real damage.

"Did you do everything on the third line, Potter?"

"No," Harry said very quietly.

"I beg your pardon?"

"No," Harry repeated, more loudly. "I forgot the hellebore. …"

"I know you did, Potter, which means that this mess is utterly worthless. Evanesco."

The contents of Harry's potion vanished; as he stood there visibly seething.

"Those of you who have managed to read the instructions correctly, fill one flagon with a sample of your potion, label it clearly with your name, and bring it up to my desk for testing," said Snape. "Homework: twelve inches of parchment on the properties of moonstone and its uses in potion-making, to be handed in on Thursday."

While everyone around him filled their flagons, Harry cleared away his things, seething. When at long last the bell rang, Harry was first out of the dungeon and had already started his lunch by the time Ron and Hermione joined him in the Great Hall. The ceiling had turned an even murkier gray during the morning. Rain was lashing the high windows.

"That was really unfair," Hermione said consolingly, sitting down next to Harry and helping herself to shepherd's pie. "Your potion wasn't nearly as bad as Goyle's; when he put it in his flagon, the whole thing shattered and set his robes on fire."

"Yeah, well," Harry said, glowering at his plate, "since when has Snape ever been fair to me?"

Neither of the others answered; all three of them knew that Snape and Harry's mutual enmity had been absolute from the moment Harry had set foot in Hogwarts.

"I did think he might be a bit better this year," Hermione said in a disappointed voice. "I mean … you know …" She looked carefully around; there were half a dozen empty seats on either side of them and nobody was passing the table. "… Now he's in the Order and everything."

"Are you completely out of your mind? Don't be so stupid as to mention that, of all things! Especially here in the Great Hall! And here I was, thinking you were the smart one!" Harry snapped viciously. Grabbing his school bag, he took off without even finishing his lunch. As he fled he heard one of the Gryffindor's commenting on the fact that Draco Malfoy had been forced to stay behind.

He didn't see Hermione's or Ron's stunned faces, or Hermione getting up and fleeing the hall with tears streaming down her face.

\-----0

"Sir?" Draco asked in confusion when at long last the door of the classroom slammed shut.

"Have you managed to think about what you did this summer, Draco?" Severus asked softly; his voice if possible was more lethal when talking softly than when he was shouting. He was like a cobra lying in wait ― ready to strike at his next prey.

"Yes, sir," Draco said looking down, pale and shaken, he'd had nightmares every night about what he had done.

Severus felt relief flowing through him, he could tell by the state of his godson that he wasn't ever going to have the stomach to be a Death Eater. Perhaps Lucius hadn't managed to take the humanity out of his son after all. Perhaps Narcissa had been more of an influence than he imagined possible. It still didn't get Draco out of the consequences of his actions, though. He was furious with his godson's reckless behaviour and what he had done to his son. When Severus realized what he had thought, it took everything to stop it from showing on his face. He couldn't believe what he had just thought; forcing himself to put it to one side, he began speaking to his godson once more.

"It took every ounce of cunning I had to ensure that the boy did not go straight to Dumbledore; do you realize what would have happened then, Draco?" Severus asked, stalking around his godson. "Either expelled from Hogwarts or up in front of the Wizengamot. Despite the paper's claims, Dumbledore still holds a lot of influence in the world."

"I know," Draco said, trying to sound Malfoy-ish but it wasn't working.

"You have detention with me two times a week, cleaning cauldrons until I feel you have properly learned your lesson," Severus calmly stated. He had to stop himself from making it more; he truly wanted to punish Draco for what he did. Unfortunately, he didn't want Draco in detention every night; he wanted to be able to spend time with Harry whenever it was possible by giving him detention also.

"But what will I tell the others?" Draco protested hotly, sounding more like himself for the first time.

"You are cunning, Draco; I'm sure you will think of something. Now I will see you on Monday and Thursday evenings," Severus said dryly. He was glad Harry wasn't here to hear this, and he was also glad Draco wouldn't go around telling everyone what he had said. Otherwise Harry might just think the wrong thing, and believe he had helped him to get Draco out of trouble. Which wasn't the case; he had begun caring for Harry very deeply. He had tried, oh Merlin, he had tried to stay detached as usual when abused students came by. He had failed to realize, though, that none of the others had lived with him, and none of them had been Lily's son, a child he had sworn to protect, vowed to protect and ensure nothing happened to. Now, though, he wouldn't change a damn thing.

"Yes, sir," Draco acquiesced quietly. Considering he could have ended up in Azkaban, he supposed detention wasn't all that bad.

"Good, now get out of here and get some lunch before your next class," Severus said impatiently. He too needed something to eat, before the next round with Potions students. The next class was first-years - the worst of the lot.

"Yes, sir, goodbye, sir," Draco said, quickly gathering his bag before practically doing a Harry and running from the classroom. He was quite happy to be away from his godfather right now, who wasn't in the best of moods ― not with him, anyway.


	27. Chapter 27

A New Place To Stay   
Chapter 27  
Detentions, and Severus Plans On Getting Even 

 

Since Severus had found out about Dumbledore, he had been watching him very closely. He noticed that he was avoiding Harry completely, which enraged him thoroughly. He was suddenly more grateful than ever that Harry had been forced to stay with him. If it weren’t for that, Harry probably would have ended up even angrier with the world. Now with a stable adult in his life, he was thriving and striving to be better. He was eating food similar to that Severus had given him in the manor, and still running, much to his pride. He was indeed very proud of Harry; he had seen him up at six o'clock running around the Quidditch pitch. He was also very concerned; Harry was getting too many detentions with Umbridge for his liking. Although he was giving him just as many, just to keep him out of Umbridge's reach. He could see Harry was getting extremely tired of everything that was happening. Everyone was avoiding him, talking about him behind his back, and calling him all manner of names. The only people who seemed to stay by his side, to his shock, were Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood. Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger continued to try to get his friendship back.

"Hi, Angelina," Hermione said, noticing the older Gryffindor coming towards their part of the table.

"Hi," she said briskly. "Good summer?" she added, causing Hermione and Ron to stare at the table, clearly upset. Angelina continued on as if she hadn't truly cared about their summer anyway. "Listen, I've been made Gryffindor Quidditch Captain."

"Oh, right," Harry said. Wood had left; he had forgotten about that.

"Yeah, well, we need a new Keeper now Oliver's left. Tryouts are on Friday at five o'clock, and I want the whole team there, all right? Then we can see how the new person'll fit in."

"Okay," Harry replied.

Angelina smiled at him and departed.

"I'd forgotten Wood had left," Hermione said. "I suppose that will make quite a difference to the team?"

"He was a good Keeper," Harry agreed, speaking to her for the first time without hatred or anger.

"Still, it won't hurt to have some new blood, will it?" Ron asked.

Suddenly the owls began swooping in, leaving Harry wondering what Ron had meant. Was he going to try out for the team? Did he have to take everything from him? Quidditch was his thing. He knew that it was bitterness talking; he should be glad for him, really. It drew him back to their first year, when he’d seen his dead parents in the Mirror of Erised… and Ron had seen himself as Prefect, Head Boy, and Quidditch captain, and winning the House Cup. It dawned on him there and then how truly different they were. He stared at Neville for a few minutes, and the kinship he felt for the boy flared even more. He knew Neville would be like him; he would see his parents too.

"Oh no!" Ron groaned, bringing Harry out of his thoughts, "History of magic, Divination, Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Potions all in one day! Binns, Trelawney, Snape, and Umbridge, all in one day! I wish Fred and George would hurry with those skiving snack boxes!"

Harry rolled his eyes upon hearing Hermione telling Fred and George that they weren't allowed to post advertisements about their testing on the notice board in the Gryffindor common room. He snickered at Fred and George's claims that it was hard to keep track of their pranks. Even worse, he had been forced to glare at Fred and George; they had been about to tell Hermione and Ron about the money he had given them.

Harry unusually paid attention during his History of Magic lessons, even if it was about Giant wars. He had someone to impress this time, someone who wanted him to pass. Severus wanted him to do his very best. He had made that very clear during the summer. He was not to do what he had done previously and hide his knowledge. He was to do his best and pass all his classes. Usually Harry had passed, but only by copying Hermione's notes before exams. He wasn't going to do that this year; Harry had an adult in his life now.

"Hey, Harry," Neville said, catching up with him.

"Hey, Nev, you okay?" Harry asked as they continued walking together.

"Yeah! I love the new password, don't you?" Neville grinned, obviously trying to find something to talk about.

"Yeah, sure," Harry agreed, at least he wasn't going to find Neville sitting outside the common room, waiting for someone to let him in if he lost his copy of the password or couldn't remember it.

"I see you, Hermione, and Ron still aren't talking…" Neville said.

"No," Harry simply said.

"I'm sorry," Neville said; they had been good friends too, sometimes tight like a damn noose. In fact, Neville had been jealous of their friendship; he was just too shy to make friends as Harry had, probably because he had never been around a child his own age until he’d come to Hogwarts. He had spent his entire life in the presence of his stern grandmother and his uncles.

Maybe now was his chance.

"Don't be, mate," Harry said, grinning slightly at Neville.

Neville was just about to speak again when Cho Chang appeared out of nowhere.

"Hello, Harry!" Cho said.

"Hi," he replied, watching her; she flushed bright red. She had just lost her boyfriend a few months ago… was she truly trying to become HIS girlfriend? That thought disgusted him completely. He didn't want to end up with someone who would go out and try to find another guy if he died two months later. Which, by the way, was a pretty sure thing, with Voldemort after him. He didn't know if she was brave or stupid for trying― especially with Voldemort out for his life.

"So… did you have a good summer?" he asked her bluntly.

He was at least gratified to see her saddened; at least she still remembered Cedric. It felt like he was the only one that remembered the Hufflepuff sometimes. Then again, that wasn't true; everyone was talking about him as though he hadn’t been a person, but just a thing that had been killed; most of them thought it was Harry who had done it.

"It was er… okay," Cho said, flushing even more darkly.

Out of nowhere Ron came and stood beside Harry. "Is that a Tornadoes badge?" he asked, rudely interrupting their conversation.

Harry simply walked off with Neville, not even attempting to listen in on that conversation.

\-------0

Harry was fuming mad; he left the school abruptly, making his way out to the Quidditch pitch. It was empty, and he was rather grateful for it. Dumping his bag on the ground along with his cloak, he began running, forcing his mind to clear, as he worked off his anger. He was very tempted to teach every Gryffindor a lesson by quitting the team. How dare Angelina scold him like a child; it was hardly his fault his teacher was giving him detention. The more he ran, the more determined he became to quit altogether ― especially now that he knew Ron was the Keeper. He also didn't have a broomstick, since his Firebolt had been broken during the summer. It seemed the best thing to do, really; plus it was only a matter of time before Umbridge gave him detention on Quidditch days or found a way to ban him altogether. This way he could stick his middle finger up at both Umbridge and the Gryffindors who were calling him a murderer behind his back.

Breathing heavily, he finally stopped, and walked back towards his things. Grabbing his bag and cloak―which he didn't put on ― he then sought out the Quidditch Captain. It took him ages to find her, but he eventually did in the common room, surrounded by the Quidditch team. Walking up to her, before she could even have a chance to speak he bluntly told her what he felt.

"I quit," he said.

"What?" she said her eyes wide.

"I'm quitting the Quidditch team," Harry said slowly, as if he was talking to someone slow in the head.

"If it's what I said earlier… I didn't mean it; sometimes I channel Wood," she said trying to lighten the atmosphere. She couldn't believe what was happening; Harry was their best player― she wasn't going to deny that.

"It changes nothing; Umbridge has had it out for me since the second she came in here. Everyone knows it, and knows I did fuck all to deserve those detentions," Harry snapped, grimacing slightly; he had screwed up his hands, causing his right hand to spasm in pain. "So you can look for a new Seeker and screw yourselves!"

"Harry, please don't, I'm truly sorry I was short with you!" Angelina begged.

Harry just glared at her before walking off, leaving a common room full of stunned students staring at his back.

\-----

Harry's heart was beating a mile a minute, as he ran from Umbridge's office. He had to see Severus; he couldn't keep this a secret anymore. Especially with what she had just said, he didn't know if it was a coincidence or not. He was very shaken by what had just transpired, and he needed to talk to someone ― anyone. Ducking into the nearest boy's toilets, he took out his cloak and map before making his way down. He didn't think he had to worry about anyone having detention with Severus this late. Umbridge had kept him later than even Severus usually did. With the map he knew nobody was around; Severus in his classroom, still moving around.

Without missing a beat he made his way there.

When Severus observed the door of his classroom opening and shutting on its own, he knew it was Harry. He was glad Harry was here, he was becoming increasingly concerned about him, especially considering the new rumour that was circulating around the school body. Harry had allegedly quit the Quidditch team, refusing to be their Seeker anymore. Considering how much Harry loved Quidditch, it was cause for alarm.

"Hello, Harry," Severus said, leaving the classroom, and leading the way to his private quarters, a place where they wouldn't be disturbed. He also disabled the Floo network so nobody could call him. "Did you quit the team?" he immediately asked as soon as Harry took off the cloak.

Harry nodded silently.

"Why did you feel the need to do that?" he asked, going through to the kitchen and fixing something for them to eat and drink. A few minutes later he walked back through and set the food down on the table. He sat down and stared at the obviously rattled teenager. He knew it took a while for Harry to gather the courage to talk to him. Not having an adult in his life to talk to, who'd believe him?

"Angelina went mad because I had detention," Harry said.

"So this is your way of getting back at them?" Severus asked, withholding a smirk of amusement. That was a purely Slytherin move, cutting his nose off to spite his own face.

"Umbridge would find a way to make sure I couldn't play anyway," Harry shrugged bitterly.

Severus didn't bother pretending that wasn't true.

Harry swallowed nervously. He wasn't sure how to tell him about this; what if he just told him to keep his head down? Or not even listen to him, as McGonagall had. He knew Severus better than that; he listened, unlike McGonagall. He tried to get the words past his throat, but for some reason he couldn't. He was afraid of Severus' reaction, for not going to him sooner... or what if he didn't help him? A lot of information was going around his brain right now.

"Harry?" Severus asked, his voice going low; he hadn't seen him like this since the beginning of the summer. It must be bad, very bad.

Harry sighed, gathering his Gryffindor courage and Slytherin self-preservation. Staring at the floor he stretched out his right hand, palm up, for Severus to see.

Severus was confused, what on earth was Harry doing? That was until he caught sight of what Harry was showing him. Fury just about took over him, but he reined it in, taking Harry's hand and inspecting it.

"Who did this?" he demanded, not hiding his anger.

"Umbridge," Harry replied.

"Accio, Accio, Accio," Severus snapped, the potions and jars he had requested, silently he might add, which, by the way, showed how powerful he was, flew into his hands. Wordlessly he was able to summon whatever he wanted. This was something Severus was also going to train Harry in, when he could. If the enemy didn't know what was coming, they couldn't defend themselves against it.

Grabbing a clean cloth, he dunked it into the essence of Murtlap and dabbed it carefully on the wound. It was yellow in colour and it healed and soothed cuts and various wounds. Almost immediately the redness around the words faded and Harry let out an audible sigh. It had obviously been bothering him badly; just how long had Harry been sore before coming to him? Obviously Harry didn't trust him completely, or he would have come right to him the second it started.

"How did she do this?" he asked, grabbing another jar and dipping out a dollop of it; it was green in colour. He also put this across the words, anger stewing inside him like a furnace going into overdrive. This one would stop infection; judging by Harry's sharp intake of breath there had been the beginnings of one, which the potion was currently fighting against. It would take care of it.

"She made me write lines with a quill… that didn't have ink… instead it cut into my skin… made me write lines in my own blood," Harry explained, blowing on his hand and trying to stop the stinging.

"Blood quill," Severus said, gritting his teeth in unadulterated fury for the Ministry employee.

"There's something else…" Harry quietly murmured.

Severus raised an enquiring eyebrow.

"When she grabbed my hand, pain seared across my head… when I wrenched my hand back… she said, 'Yes, it hurts, doesn't it?'…I have no idea if she meant my hand or if she knew…" Harry said, trailing off.

Severus narrowed his eyes; Harry's scar shouldn't be hurting him, not since he’d boxed the Horcrux in… and since he’d learned to close his mind off. What if the Dark Lord had found out about it? And was deliberating trying to get into Harry's mind? Was that the reason Dumbledore was avoiding him? In case Voldemort was lurking around, waiting to take over Harry? It seemed more urgent than ever to ensure Harry learned Occlumency to the best of his ability. It was a good thing he had already had Harry learn the basics. He had a good grip on it; with his help, he could ensure Harry's complete safety from the Dark Lord's influence. First he would deal with Umbridge, and then give Harry detentions so he could teach him, not just Occlumency, but also, given the Dark Lord's habit of attacking Harry at the end of the year, he'd best be ready.

Which brought him back. "It must be a coincidence, Harry… if she were an agent of the Dark… my presence would be causing your scar pain too."

Harry laughed wryly, he hadn't thought of that, so he nodded his head in understanding.

"Now, let's get you back up to your common room," Severus said, "unless there is something else you'd like to talk about?" He went to his personal potions stores, and grabbed the deep purple potion. Harry needed a decent sleep, and this was the only way he was going to get it.

"Is there a way to get rid of this?" he asked hopefully as he motioned with his scarred right hand.

"Yes; I'll do it once she's gone for good… we might need it for evidence," Severus said, "I'll give you a week's worth of detention for being out after curfew… and since she'll not have a reason to assign any more… you will be free of her." His eyes darkened with anger just thinking about her. He also grabbed a few other potions and handed them over to Harry, explaining what they were.

"You know what this one is, take it as soon as you get back to your tower," Severus said, pointing to the purple one. "This is a small bottle of Murtlap Essence, it will help it if your hand gets irritated, and this will stop any infection. If it gets sore, drink this; it's a mild pain reliever."

"Okay," Harry said, gratefully accepting the potions and putting them in his school bag.

"Goodnight, Harry," Severus said, placing his hand on Harry's back by way of comforting him. "Stay strong; don't let them get you down… sooner or later they are going to pay… or realize you've been saying nothing but the truth. He won't remain silent for long… you must know that."

"I just wish that day would hurry up," Harry admitted.

"You and me both; the sooner they begin preparing for him, the better," Severus stated, an odd look in his eye. "Just ignore them; concentrate on your OWLs and passing," he warned. "Before you know it, everyone will be apologizing," he added, a sneer fixed on his face.

He was no longer surprised by Harry's own sneer. He was getting used to seeing such a look appearing on Harry's face.

"I see you've kept up your diet and running; I'm proud of you," he said before opening the door to his chambers and going through to his office. He did see the beaming look Harry passed him, and it made the comment worth it. It wasn't in him always to compliment people. In fact, he'd spent the majority of his life putting people down, this boy more than most. If only he had known... but he hadn't, and he was doing his best to correct that.

He was doing what everyone else was failing to do ― teach and protect Harry to the best of his ability.

The last he saw of Harry that evening, he was donning his cloak and disappearing from view and the room.

He wrote a short note to McGonagall telling her he had Harry Potter in detention for the next week for being out after curfew. He also took five points from Gryffindor, knowing it was expected. Once that was done, he exited his office.

A scheming look appeared on Severus’ face, as he went back to his private quarters. He went over to his small alcohol cupboard, lifting a panel to reveal a secret compartment; inside were very illegal potions, potions he had made while firmly under the Dark Lord's thumb. He looked over the bottles, a look of concentration on his face, wondering which one to use on Umbridge. The toad woman would rue the day she hurt his son; nobody hurt him and got away with it. Not even the Dark Lord. Did he kill her right off? Or make her look sick first? What to do…what to do... Either way, she was going down. Considering Harry had Defence with her on Monday again… he'd have to do something quick. He'd be damned before he let his son have another class with her.

Oh, yeah, Harry Potter truly had someone who'd defend him to his last breath, and he didn't even know it.

Umbridge had better watch out; Severus Snape was out for blood, and, being a Slytherin to the core, he'd achieve his end without getting caught.

The egg Harry had brought back from the Chamber shook a little before becoming still again. It was currently lying in a water-filled cauldron at the side of Severus' fire. Severus had been entrusted with the egg by Harry, and he had read all he could, so he was prepared. He feared the baby basilisk was dead but held out hope for it. Good thing too, that Harry had found the egg, or it would have died if it hadn't been cared for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big Thank you to the great Jake and Jordre for editing it and making this story all the more wonderful :)


	28. Chapter 28

A New Place To Stay  
Chapter 28   
The Weirdest Things Just Happen

 

It was six o'clock in the morning, and all the teachers were in the staff room, currently having a meeting. Which, fortunately, Umbridge couldn't make, as it happened to be at the same time that she had a meeting with Cornelius Fudge. It was a good thing as far as Severus was concerned. His anger hadn't abated a single bit during the weekend; it had been simmering. Now it was at boiling point, despite the plans he had made. Of course he knew just the elf to help him; until two hours ago, Dobby had been a free elf working at Hogwarts for free. Not anymore; Dobby was, for all intents and purposes, his now ― at least until he got clothes. He had given Dobby two tasks: to watch Harry ―not spy on him, just observe― and make sure he was safe from harm, and to do what he told him to, no questions asked. He had told the little elf to ensure a certain potion went into Umbridge’s food and drink. It was nothing too dangerous, though, in case it somehow did end up in someone else's drink. She wasn't going to get off with harming his son too quickly. Plus he realized he'd be on the receiving end of all the suspicion if she suddenly died. He was a Death Eater; Fudge would point the finger at him first. So he was regretfully going to have to make it look like natural causes. Then the Slytherin side of him began reveling in the plan; the longer he drew it out, the better revenge it was.

"I need more Quidditch pitch time, Severus," Minerva said, starting the meeting off.

"I thought you had your Keeper, Minerva?" Albus asked, his blue eyes twinkling brightly. It had been his idea; he wanted Harry and Ronald to patch their differences up. Ronald Weasley was a good friend, a future Order member, and a brilliant strategist. Albus had known that since first year, when he’d realized Ronald had completed the game of Wizarding chess that Minerva had set up.

"Mr. Potter has quit as Gryffindor Seeker," Minerva said disapprovingly, her lips pursed.

"What?" Albus cried out in shock, his twinkle disappearing.

Minerva just sighed. "I tried to talk to him about it, but he wasn't having any of it," she explained. "I'm afraid he means it."

"Good, the Slytherins will win this year's game," Severus smirked, as it was expected of him. He was, however, quite concerned about Harry― he loved playing Quidditch. He loved flying even more, he knew, because he had observed Harry flying over the summer. Until his broomstick had been broken, of course; that made an idea come to the forefront of his mind.

"Severus!" Albus grimly admonished. He was concerned about Harry― he loved flying. He couldn't even talk to him about it; the guilt and knowledge he had were stopping him. He had found out some disturbing information about the diary and Voldemort. That was just the start of it; he was also feeling guilty about not telling Harry about the Prophecy. He had kept putting it off, trying to tell himself that he wanted Harry to have a childhood. It seemed Albus was very good at lying to himself. Unfortunately, the fate of the wizarding world was more important than the fate of one boy.

Severus just arched an eyebrow in Dumbledore's direction, not even bothering to reply, just sneering.

"I wouldn't worry, Minerva; Harry likes playing too much to quit… he'll be back," Dumbledore said. At least he hoped so.

"Before tomorrow?" Severus smirked wickedly; tomorrow was Slytherin vs. Gryffindor, the first game of the season.

Minerva turned her back at him, obviously very angry with him, as though it were his fault she had lost her star Quidditch Seeker. That piece of information shared, they began talking about all other information. A few of the teachers commented on children getting a lot of detentions from Umbridge. How they were too quiet, and their friends had come to their Head of House concerned about them. If they had thought about it, they would have realized it was only the children who didn't have parents with Ministry connections. People such as Susan Bones, Draco Malfoy, and even Zacharias Smith were left alone; Smith's father was an Auror.

"Have any of you even thought about talking to them about it?" Severus asked, sarcasm deep in his voice. It wasn't just the students that were always on the receiving end of his sarcasm; the teachers were as well. It didn't help that he believed most of them were incompetent. The only ones he actually liked and respected, for the most part, were Filius Flitwick, Minerva McGonagall, and Poppy Pomfrey. Sprout was tolerable, but she was too… Hufflepuff for his tastes. The others were jokes. He liked Hagrid, but he refused to tell him anything― it was just parroted back to Dumbledore, or worse still, the students. He had no filter, but Hagrid was nice to him, the first one to welcome him back and be kind to him. Plus Hagrid brought him back Potion ingredients: Acromantula venom, hair, teeth... lots of it. He was always vague with his replies when Severus asked where he got it, just murmured about finding it when he was shopping. He had gotten unicorn parts during Harry's first year at Hogwarts; unfortunately the blood couldn't be used in anything legal. Using that blood in a potion was for the darkest of arts. The hair and unicorn horn were always fun to experiment with, mostly with healing properties. Unfortunately, Severus wasn't able to experiment as much as he would like to.

"Why? It's just detention," Charity frowned; she was the Muggle studies teacher, and Severus thought she was a simpleton.

"Even my detentions don't quiet the little brats down," Severus sneered, and it was true. Otherwise Severus wouldn't still be giving out detentions.

"There is nothing that can be done," Dumbledore simply said, "I suggest we just concentrate on getting this year over with."

Severus silently wondered about that statement; one could interpret that message in many ways. Did he mean Dumbledore knew what she was doing and was letting it continue? That thought left him cold. Or was he just as pissed off as the rest of them with the way Umbridge was infiltrating their school? Stopping the students from learning Defence, especially considering who was back. The thought that Dumbledore knew and was letting it continue ― to Harry of all people ― left him furious all over again.

"Some of my plants are dead," Sprout said.

"Do you know the reason why?" Dumbledore asked in concern.

"Blood; a few of the students must have been injured in my class… the fifth-years," Sprout stated. A wizard's blood had magic in it; the magic must have been playing havoc with the plants, causing infections, which essentially killed the plants; rogue magic was a bad thing ― wizarding blood was extremely potent and dangerous. As Harry had just learned at the end of his fourth year, one drop could bring back a Dark Lord, to be more terrible than ever before.

"What were they doing without gloves on?" Filius asked, looking exasperated; children just couldn't do what they were told.

Severus' eyes narrowed, he was going to have to watch his students. Filius was wrongfully assuming they had hurt themselves, while being stupid and not wearing gloves. He didn't realize that Umbridge had caused it. The cuts could very well be infected; what if he was doing the wrong thing keeping quiet? A drop of wizarding blood in a Potion could cause a catastrophe. Just how many students had been injured by Umbridge? Withholding a growl of pure menace, he realized he'd have to get Harry to hand the Murtlap essence around. He couldn't do it without suspicion. Nobody would be serving detention with her again if he had anything to say about it, though―that was for sure.

"I have no idea, I always tell them to wear protective gear, and they normally listen to me," Sprout said, shaking her head. "I'm down seven plants, and I have to group even more people together."

"Get the plants you need; charge it to Hogwarts' account," Dumbledore stated, frowning in confusion. Seven plants was a lot, more than they had lost in six years.

"What about Umbridge?" Sprout asked.

"What about her?" Dumbledore grimly asked.

"The Ministry's investigating everything… I just assumed I couldn't requisition money for new plants," Sprout replied, looking relieved. At least she could buy new plants; there were five students to a plant at the moment. Once they were ordered, it would go back down to two or three people per plant.

"The Ministry does not and cannot control Hogwarts' budget; it belongs to the school and the school alone," Dumbledore said darkly; he was getting really annoyed with Umbridge. Even his teachers were beginning to be affected by her ways. Dumbledore and Minerva both had to sign any requisitions to take any money out of the accounts. The Ministry did pay the tuition for the students on a scholarship. They also had people help strengthen the wards every year, but that's as far as the help went in the Ministry, money-wise.

To make matters worse, half an hour later, while they were still talking about school-related matters―Severus just sitting brooding― a letter arrived. Umbridge was being given permission to interview and supervise all the teachers. Needless to say there was an uproar of disapproval and anger at that piece of information. The only tell-tale of anger that came from Severus, was the disappearing of his lips and the flaring of his nostrils.

"Something has to be done, Albus!" Minerva shrieked furiously.

"Calm down," Dumbledore soothed. "I’m sure it's not going to be as bad as you imagine."

Severus snorted at Dumbledore's attempt at calming the teachers down.

\-------

Harry woke up looking around groggily, trying to remember everything. His mouth was dyer than drought grass. Moving his curtains aside, he grabbed the water on his bedside table. It was always fresh, cold, and full for most part ― how the elves did it without being seen or heard, he didn't know. For years he had assumed it was magic itself that did it, not the elves. It showed just how stupid he had been in those days… not stupid, ignorant maybe.

"Hello, Harry," Ron said, looking hopeful that his friend had forgiven him.

"Hi," he replied coldly, grabbing his toiletries and clothes for the day― his new clothes that fitted him. He no longer had to wear his uniform on the weekend or his closed winter robes. Another thing Ron probably hated him for; as if it was his fault his parents had so many children and not enough money to buy them new things.

"Hi, Harry," Neville said from one of the stalls; the curtain was closed, but he could see over it.

"Hiya, Neville… you okay?" Harry asked, stepping into one of the other showers and closing the curtain. Not that he had any reason to anymore; his scars were gone, thanks to Severus. Unfortunately he couldn't break the habit of a lifetime; most of the others did as well anyway.

"Yeah, Defence first thing, though," Neville grimaced, looking particularly upset. "Then it doesn't get any better―Potions."

"If you want… you can sit with me?" Harry suggested while he shampooed his hair.

"Er… okay; thanks, Harry," Neville said, wondering if he would regret it. Snape hated Harry and singled him out a lot; would it just make everything worse for him regarding Snape? Unfortunately, most of his classmates hated being partnered with him. Harry was the first person actually to willingly offer to sit next to him. Well… their potion should be explosive, to say the least.

"No problem," Harry shrugged.

"I'll see you later," Neville said, walking out of the shower and going back to the dorm to get ready for class. "I'll wait for you in the common room."

"Cool; see you in five," Harry said, resuming his shower, ignoring Ron and Seamus when they came in.

Then again, the Gryffindors had all been giving him pleading or betrayed looks. They knew they were doomed without Harry on the Quidditch team. Harry might be cutting his own nose off to spite his face... but he loved it! They'd screwed him over for the last time; did they really think they could continue doing it, and he'd let them? No, not any more.

\------

Harry and Neville walked into the Great Hall together; Neville threw a wave over to the Ravenclaw bench. Harry observed that he was turning red; looking over curiously he saw the girl he had shared the train ride with waving back. Luna; she had a way with words, she was also very honest ― if a little dreamy. He liked her.

"Have you actually sat down and spoken to her?" Harry asked as they made their way to the Gryffindor table.

"Er, no, not really," Neville murmured, his face flaming red. "There's nowhere to go anyway; the library is always full… the others don't like other houses coming to Gryffindor common room."

"Neville… I'll show you somewhere you can talk to her… without being interrupted," Harry said, smirking deviously. He cursed silently; remembering where he was, the smirk was removed from his face. Harry Potter didn't smirk, Harry Potter wasn't devious, he was honest and a stupid, naive little shite. At least according to the world.

"Thanks, Harry," Neville grinned. That grin quickly faded, then he exclaimed in dread, "Oh man!"

"What's wrong?" Harry asked confused.

"Look at Snape… he looks furious… they all do," Neville nervously stated.

Harry looked up and realized Neville was right, and he wasn't the most observant boy in the world. He silently wondered what had gotten them all wound up; he'd say with certainty it was Umbridge, who was sitting there like a proud peacock. He suddenly dreaded her class, although there was one upside―she wasn't a Death Eater. Severus had been right; his scar hurting had merely been a coincidence. Otherwise it would have hurt all summer.

"Yeah, suddenly I wish I was ill― I can do without Umbridge, especially in the mood she's in," Harry grimaced.

"She's inspecting classes," Hermione, who was sitting across from them, said. "It's up on the notice board, just as I was coming to breakfast."

"Fantastic; it's not enough she's making life a living hell in Defence, making us unable to learn anything… she's got to make our other classes hell?" Harry sighed, grabbing his breakfast, his good mood vanishing. It was a good job he had had a good night's sleep the night before.

"I've been thinking about that," Hermione said quietly, unsure of how Harry was with her these days. "We should get together, learn Defence on our own… by ‘we’ I mean students, not just Gryffindors but everyone. Voldemort could attack any day… we need to learn Defence."

"And?" Harry asked bluntly; he had a funny feeling he knew where she was going with this.

Hermione gathered her courage. "Well… I spoke to a few; they'd do it… if you agreed to train them… they believe you, that HE is back."

"Good for them; tell them to open a book and practise themselves. I'm not wasting my time helping them when they'd stab me in the back quicker than looking at me," Harry said, staring straight into Hermione's eyes.

"That's a shame… I think you'd have been great, Harry," Neville chimed in as Hermione's eyes bugged and she stared at Harry as if he was turning into Voldemort.

Harry didn't get a chance to reply, as a very loud, flatulent sound was heard. It had emanated from the head table; curiously enough, Professors McGonagall and Flitwick were gagging almost viciously, moving their chairs away. Umbridge, who had been between them, turned bright red, looking utterly mortified. It was probably the only genuine emotion they had gotten out of her since she’d come here.

The smell must have been getting worse, because all the teachers were using their napkins to cover their noses. The first-years were shuffling their cloaks over their noses, some even getting out of their seats.

Umbridge closed her eyes in shocked dread. She couldn't believe it―she had soiled herself right here in public; the smell was making her sick. She didn't look at any of the teacher or students. Unfortunately she heard their laughter, and felt two inches tall. She got up out of her seat, horrified to see it was brown. Grabbing Minerva's cloak from the back of her chair she fled the hall, the cloak covering her back, backside and legs, swearing that the students would pay for daring to laugh at her! She was an important Ministry individual!

Minerva looked completely shocked, that had been her favourite cloak! She wouldn't be using it again, that was for sure. She watched Albus casting refreshing charms on the Hall and banishing the chair. She noticed that he didn't stop the students from laughing, but merely got on with his breakfast. She understood why; now that Voldemort was back―there wasn't going to be much to laugh about.

After the shock and laughter had worn off, most of the students were looking at Fred and George Weasley.

"How did you do that?" Ron asked, admiration growing for the twins.

"We didn't," Fred and George replied, looking devastated― someone was pranking Umbridge... and what a good prank it was, too. Someone was upstaging them! They were the kings of prank. It dawned on them, though, that they might end up blamed for it. That didn't sit well with them at all.

"Then who did?" Hermione questioned; her eyes were narrowed in concentration, trying to figure it out logically who could have pranked Umbridge. It had to be someone with access to the house-elves and the kitchen. Not many students knew where the kitchens were... but they did know about house-elves, thanks to her.

Fred and George simply shrugged in confusion.

\---------

"Can I help you?" Poppy asked as Umbridge came into her Hospital Wing. She was looking around nervously as if she didn't want to be seen here.

"I need a Potion or something… that will help," Umbridge gulped, her eyes wider than normal. She looked even more like a frog than usual too.

"Sit down while I run a scan!" Poppy said, pulling out her diagnostic wand.

"I just need a potion for diarrhoea; I have a class to run," Umbridge snapped, standing up straight and speaking coldly to the Medi-witch. The flush was leaving her face as the old “her” came back as quickly as it had disappeared.

"I see," Madam Pomfrey said, summoning a potion and coolly handing it to her.

Umbridge curled her lip at her, drinking the potion, then she took a step towards the door, looking forward to giving Harry Potter detention. Unfortunately for her, the potion didn't help; if anything it made matters ten times worse― she didn't make it to the toilet in time again.

Poor Madam Pomfrey had to deal with it herself, and then clean and sterilise her Hospital Wing.

=-----------

The fifth-years sat in the Defence classroom, Slytherin and Gryffindor, both houses waiting for Umbridge. For once both houses weren't bothering one another, but just waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Umbridge to come in and make their lives hell for the prank some unknown person had played. Despite waiting, they jumped out of their skins when the door banged open. It wasn't Umbridge though; no, it was the only other teacher they really didn't like ―at least one half of the room, the Gryffindors ― it was Professor Snape.

For once there weren't groans around the room, instead they held their breath.

Once he was at the front of the classroom, he swirled around to face them, his face emotionless. His lip was curled, and nobody could blame him really― he looked awfully strange surrounded by all the pink that was there now. "Books away, wands out now," Severus stated sharply. If he was getting to teach them... he was actually going to do it.

Excited murmurs filled the classroom, as each and every one eagerly did as they were told. It seemed as though Professor Snape was their new favourite teacher!

"During your O.W.L. exams, both in Charms and Defence practicals, you are given a chance to earn an even better grade ― by producing the Patronus charm... despite the fact that it's not taught in Hogwarts' curriculum. It's extremely difficult to produce one; most adult wizards have trouble with it," Severus said smoothly. "Professor Dumbledore has… requested... I waste my time teaching you dunderheads to produce it." His lip was curling at the name and suggestion.

It was a lie, of course. Severus wanted them to learn it; it was vital, considering he knew that the Dementors would join the Dark Lord eventually. He had to lie and say it was all Dumbledore’s idea, otherwise it would be his death warrant. The Dementors would relish the fact that they could eat as many souls as they liked, and not just the nearly dead souls they had to be content with in Azkaban.

"A non-corporeal Patronus is one which does not resemble any living creature and has few distinguishing features, if any. Non-corporeal Patronuses resemble a burst of vapour or smoke, without any clearly defined form, shooting from the tip of the wand. While they may be partially effective at halting Dementors, non-corporeal Patronuses are not fully-fledged Patronuses, and are regarded as a more primitive or weaker version of the true Charm," Severus sharply explained. "To produce a Patronus, you must think of a very happy memory, a powerful memory, point your wand, and utter the words 'Expecto Patronum'... what are you waiting for? Move!" Severus snapped, waving his wand; the tables all disappeared completely from view.

Poor Neville looked like he was going to have a heart attack, so Harry went over to him and began quietly talking, making sure nobody could overhear what he was saying. "It doesn't have to be a memory, it can be your dearest wish," he said, pausing before adding, "I used my parents, imagined them with me… And, Neville… close your eyes and feel the magic within you― call it up and think about whatever you want, then say the words. You can do it; you are magical, and I have faith in you. In fact, out of everyone, I'd want you to have my back. Prove me right."

Neville stared at Harry, completely stunned by what his classmate had just said. Everyone was shouting Expecto Patronum without any success. Neville, though, didn't hear any of it, he was completely blown away with what Harry had said. Suddenly determination the likes of which he had never felt before flowed through him. He couldn't be useless if Harry Potter believed in him. Every comment his grandmother had ever said about him flew out of his ear, and he could only hear Harry's words. Closing his eyes he did as Harry asked, feeling his magical core, for the first time truly acknowledging how much magic he had. He thought about his parents beside him, encouraging him, believing him. A small smile appeared on Neville's face. His wand tightly gripped in his hand, he shouted, "Expecto Patronum!"

Out of Neville Longbottom's wand came a large carnivorous plant, snapping angrily, swooping around.

You could have heard a wand drop, it was that silent in the classroom. Nobody was more stunned than the caster of the spell himself.

"I did it!" Neville said, his voice full of stunned disbelief.

"Told you," Harry said smugly.

"I want all of you casting the spell… now," Severus growled, getting himself under control. He couldn't believe it; only the strongest wizards could cast that spell. Harry was powerful, different from everyone else. The person he had suspected to get the spell would have been Granger or Draco... not Neville Longbottom! Needless to say he was going to have to re-evaluate all he knew or suspected.

"Aren't you going to cast it?" Neville asked, wishing everyone would stop looking at him.

"I can already cast it," Harry shrugged.

"What is it?" Neville asked curiously.

"A stag," Harry replied.

"Can I see it?" Neville asked, his shyness completely gone― he was excited!

"Expecto Patronum!" Harry murmured, barely even having to concentrate, he had cast the spell often enough.

Unfortunately for him, what came out of his wand was NOT a stag. Harry stared in disbelief at the doe standing at attention. Gulping, he banished it, completely gobsmacked.

"That wasn't a stag, Harry," Neville said, confused.

"No, it wasn't," Harry replied, his voice hoarse. Severus, Hermione, and Ron were staring at him in shock. Severus' stare was less obvious than Hermione’s and Ron's, though.

Nobody else had noticed anything unusual, as they all tried casting the spell themselves.

"Expecto Patronum!" Hermione shouted desperately; she couldn't believe Neville Longbottom had gotten a spell before she did. She hadn't even been able to perform a decent shield. It wouldn't repel one Dementor, never mind a lot of them. If anything, her shield was even worse than normal. Her voice was becoming even more desperate with each attempt she made.

"Expecto Patronum!" Ron shouted, thinking of his time in front of the mirror of Erised.

The form of what could only be described as a dog came out for a few seconds before disappearing.

"How did you do that?" Hermione whined, her eyes wide in shock. She felt as though she had just entered an alternate universe. She also wanted to read up on if Patronuses could change their forms. Harry's had, and she wanted to know why, and wanted to know why a doe, of all things.

So Ron told her.

By the end of the lesson, most were able to create shields that would repel at least one or maybe two Dementors for four minutes if they were lucky. Only five people had Patronuses that were taking forms: Ron a dog, Neville a carnivorous plant; Draco's was a sort of peacock-looking thing, Hermione's was an otter, and Harry's was a doe.

Everyone left the classroom, exclaiming about how it was the best Defence lesson they'd ever had. The Slytherins were muttering in complete fury that Neville Longbottom had managed to create one. The other Gryffindors were stunned that Neville could cast one and they couldn't! It was all they could talk about all the way down to the Dungeons and after that.

A/N: Patronuses can change; Nymphadora's Patronus changed to that of a werewolf in the books after she became close to Remus.

 

Harry sat next to the fire, watching the egg, hearing very faint hissing that he couldn't understand. Maybe the baby couldn't talk yet, maybe it was just hissing. Severus had let him come down here, despite the fact that he had Draco Malfoy in detention. He was the one who had told Harry that the egg was moving, before he had left again. So that's what Harry had been doing for the past hour. Staring at the egg and hissing comfortingly at it, letting the poor orphaned egg know it wasn't alone.

"Are you getting any sense out of it?" Severus asked curiously, as he came in, dumping his cloak. He moved to his kitchen, already making a brew, obviously in desperate need of one.

"No," Harry replied, disheartened.

"Give it time," Severus said smoothly.

"Do you know why my Patronus changed?" Harry asked, staring into the fire.

"It's not unheard of. The Latin for it is, I await a protector, or I look out for; it's a guardian. It changes to reflect your current feelings and personality," Severus stated. At lunch time he had gone to the library and taken out the book on Patronuses, just as Hermione Granger was coming in. He had gotten sadistic amusement out of that; he knew she had been there for the same reason as he. When he had read it, he had felt a sense of smugness and pride envelope him. Harry's Patronus represented him! He saw him as a protector and a guardian. He had known it, but that, the Patronus, proved it beyond all doubts.

"Did I mess up?" Harry asked quietly, practically whispering the words.

"No; nobody seemed to realize what had happened, other than Granger and Weasley," Severus stated. "It wouldn't have mattered, even if they all saw it. Dark Wizards cannot cast the Patronus Spell."

"What?" Harry asked, seemingly surprised.

"Patronus charms are full of love, happiness, longing... all positive emotions… Nobody dark is truly capable of those emotions. So they cannot cast it, cannot repel the Dementors," Severus explained.

"So if you cast it, he would know?" Harry asked.

"He would, which is why I did not cast the spell," Severus smoothly stated.

Harry nodded his head in understanding.

"Unfortunately, if your friends begin asking questions… Dumbledore will find out," Severus warned. Dumbledore knew Severus' Patronus, knew it was a doe just like Lily's.

Harry closed his eyes and shook his head in self-disgust.

"It's a good thing it was your mother's Patronus. If he asks questions, I can spin it that way," Severus said calmly.

Harry smiled at Severus' statement. It was true; he had the same Patronus as his mother and Severus. Did that mean he regarded Severus as a protector? If so, why had his Patronus been a stag to begin with? Because of his father's best friend? Or because he had been compared to his father so much it was the only way possible for him? He wasn't sure; what he did know was that his feelings for Severus must run deeper than he had suspected.

He finally had something of his mother beside her eyes and love for books and learning.

"Longbottom did really well today; what did you do to him?" Severus asked wryly.

"He's not as bad as you think he is― his grandmother is very horrible to him. They dropped him out of windows and off piers, trying to get his magic to react as a child. He probably didn't have any friends before Hogwarts. He's also got his father's wand, it's why his magic is so weak… the wand chooses the wizard." His voice changed saying the last part of the sentence; he imitated Ollivander.

If Neville Longbottom could cast a Patronus with a wand that wasn't right for him… what could he do with a wand that was? was the only thing that went through Severus Snape's mind as Harry told him something he hadn't known.

"I'd suggest you tell that boy to get a new wand, even if he has to go to Ollivander's by himself during a Hogsmeade weekend," Severus recommended. That would be breaking the rules; they weren't allowed to leave Hogsmeade. Neville was best doing it before the war truly broke out, otherwise he'd be fighting in a war with a wand that wasn't right for him. It could mean the difference between his death or survival in the long run, and despite what people said, he didn't hate Neville Longbottom. He just had to act as if he did; after all, it was Neville's parents' fault that four inner-circle Death Eaters had been arrested and sentenced to Azkaban: three Lestranges and Crouch Junior. He had silently celebrated their incarceration; those Death Eaters deserved the Kiss, but Azkaban would have to do.

Just as he had to pretend to hate Harry Potter; it was his fault that the Dark Lord had been defeated. Any Death Eater that was seen being nice to Harry Potter would probably be killed on the spot.

If anyone thought the Dark Lord hated Dumbledore, it was nothing on how he felt about Harry Potter. He was obsessed with the teenager; it was all his life revolved around now. Killing him, defeating him once and for all ― to prove he'd been just lucky. To prove Voldemort could take over the world, that Harry Potter was nothing special. No, Dumbledore had been dropped to number two―Harry was the one he wanted most.

Which made everything a lot more complicated. It was a very good thing he was teaching Harry what he could―to survive, to live. He wasn't getting to teach him anywhere near enough as he had hoped. At least he was being trained, getting taught everything Severus could think of. Now that he was messing with Umbridge, teaching Harry what he needed would be just a little bit easier. Not just Harry, but everyone else might have a chance now too.

"I'll suggest that to him," Harry said in agreement.

"How's your hand?" Severus asked.

"Healing, thank you," Harry said gratefully.

"Have you suggested it to the others?" Severus asked.

Harry nodded his head “yes,” he had indeed.

"Good, how do you feel about a duel?" Severus asked.

Harry's nod was much more enthusiastic this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thank you to Jake and Jordre for editing this!


	29. Chapter 29

A New Place To Stay  
Chapter 29  
Quidditch, Umbridge, and Surprised Teachers, Oh My! 

Hermione spent all her free time reading up on Patronuses, still unable to believe Neville Longbottom had cast one. Her book bag was considerably heavier as she attended classes; not only was the Patronus bothering her, so was Harry. Every class they attended, Harry put his hand up and earned points for Gryffindor for correct answers! Never in the five years Harry had been at Hogwarts, had he put his hand up and volunteered to answer questions. Needless to say, she was flustered and completely red in the face by the end of the classes. She felt undeniably betrayed by the way Harry was acting... it was as if he were trying to show her up.

Harry was actually feeling rather proud of himself, despite the fact that the teachers were completely gobsmacked at his participation in class. Professor Sprout had gaped at him for a good few seconds, after he’d answered her question correctly. It made him feel extremely confused, even if he was proud. Was his participation really that much of a surprise that the teachers had to stare at him, as thought they couldn't believe he was there? It wasn't his fault really. He'd had it drummed into him since he’d been five years old, since attending first year at primary school, that he wasn't to do better than their Dudders, or suffer the consequences. Even here he couldn't help but do what was expected of him. Be good at Defence and nothing else. Severus didn't want that to continue; he wanted him to do his best in all his classes. He only wished that someone had taken an interest in him sooner. He wiped those thoughts away, deciding to concentrate on the here and now. Wishing wasn't going to do him any good, just like the mirror of Erised, really. Wishing was like dreaming, it stopped you from living your life.

"You going to the Quidditch game, Harry?" Neville asked curiously.

"What, not going to beg me to play again too?" Harry asked a little more sarcastically than he intended to. He shouldn't be taking his frustration out on Neville; it wasn't fair or right. The members of the Quidditch team had begged him all morning, during breakfast and catching him before classes. He hadn't even replied, just regarded them coldly before leaving.

"What do you mean?" Neville asked quietly, sitting there, a confused look coming upon his features.

"Sorry, Neville; ignore me― I'm just in a bad mood," Harry murmured apologetically.

"It's okay, but if you want to talk, I am here," Neville said honestly, his features serene.

"Thanks, Nev," Harry grinned, his anger disappearing immediately.

"By the way, the room? It's brilliant!" Neville blurted, completely over the moon. "I wanted to help Luna with her Herbology, and texts and PLANTS! appeared in the room so I could demonstrate."

"Well it is called the Room of Requirement for a reason, Nev," Harry smiled, glad to have helped someone. A part of Harry felt rather guilty for being so heavy-handed with Hermione. She only wanted to help the others keep their grades up. Unfortunately, a kicked dog only took so many kicks before biting back. Harry was that dog, not so desperate for approval anymore ― he didn't just sit back and allow others to do what they liked. There hadn't been a year gone by where his housemates hadn't gone against him at some point. When he had lost points, fifty points for being out of bounds. All was forgiven at the leaving feast of course, since he won them the cup. Second year had been by far the worst up until that point. How could they have thought he had the power to petrify people? Of course all had been forgiven in the end as if it had never happened. Third year had been okay, apart from Malfoy and the others playing tricks on him. Fourth year, well, that had been a bad year, with everyone calling him a liar, cheat, and all the other names under the sun. Oh, of course they’d forgiven him in the end, after he’d nearly been killed by an enraged dragon. Now this, them constantly calling him a liar again… there was only so much one person could take. When he thought of all the times they had accused him of being dark, a cheat, and a liar, his guilt evaporated. If they wanted to learn, they could do it themselves; it didn't make him horrible to say no, did it? He didn't like to think so. It wasn't his responsibility; he was the same age as the rest of them. He didn't have any more magical experience than they did, either; in fact he probably had less. He had only received four years of magical tutoring; did they forget he hadn’t grown up in the magical world? Hermione didn't know about the intensive training he had received from Severus before school had started back up.

"Yeah," Neville agreed, still completely happy.

"By the way… I meant to say…" Harry began, contemplating how to say it without giving Sev away.

"What?" Neville asked curiously, as they walked back from Herbology; his friend had answered really good questions. He, of course, had known the answers too, and Sprout more than most always called him up, knowing he did. Hermione also knew them; he couldn't deny it had surprised him that Harry had raised his hand. He wasn't jealous, though; he was just happy his friend knew about Herbology ― it was his favourite class after all. He had seen Hermione though, not just during Herbology, but reading about Patronuses. He had been forced to suppress a smirk. HE, Neville Longbottom, had succeeded in casting a spell before the brightest witch of their age. Fortunately for her, Neville wasn't one to brag; he was a quite down-to-earth teenager who'd been convinced he was a Squib for ten years before attending Hogwarts.

"I don't mean any disrespect to your Gran… or even your dad!" Harry quickly added, "but… I think you should get a new wand, Neville… just imagine, I mean, you were able to cast a Patronus with a wand not suited for you… can you imagine what you would be capable of with a wand that was?"

Neville stared at the ground, still moving, before facing his friend. "I know; I've been thinking the same thing… but Gran would be so angry if I did such a thing."

"Neville… is it because money is tight?" Harry quietly ventured.

Neville laughed sadly. "No, Harry; my parents were… well, purebloods. The Longbottoms have a lot of money and properties. We don't have anything like the Malfoys, of course… but we are hardly strapped for Galleons."

"Oh," Harry said. Well, that did make sense; he had inherited a lot from his parents too. "Well, you can't always make your grandmother happy, Nev; after all, it might mean the difference between life and death with a wand of your own."

"Yeah, you might be right… but I'd need to wait until summer; Ollivander's is in Diagon Alley." Neville said, agreeing with Harry. The more his friend talked, the more convinced Neville became to purchase his own.

"I wouldn't wait until then, Neville," Harry said solemnly. "Each year near the end of school HE does something big, and if you get caught in the crossfire, I'll never forgive myself."

"Then how?" Neville asked, as they walked into the Great Hall, waving at Luna as he took his own seat.

"Hogsmeade weekend is coming up. Floo to the Leaky Cauldron; it will only take a few minutes," Harry said, grabbing food that he knew Severus would approve of. He was still on his “diet,” building up muscle; he was also still doing his morning runs. Unfortunately, he couldn't attend Hogsmeade, since they hadn't signed his forms again. Speaking of the Dursleys, he wondered if Dumbledore had caught them yet or not. The thought of going back to them thoroughly sickened him; even now he had homesick pangs of longing to be behind the wards of Prince Manor. He had only been there two months, yet it was the best place he had ever been. Severus didn't have to pretend to be nasty or anything, and life had been simple. Hell, he preferred it to Hogwarts, and that was saying something indeed.

"Won't I get into big trouble for that?" Neville asked.

"What are they going to do to you, Neville? Throw you out of school for getting a better wand?" Harry scoffed, sounding very much like his potions Master; if he didn't watch himself, he'd know all about it. His true colours were shining through: his Slytherin colours.

"Well, now that you mention it…" Neville laughed, feeling particularly silly.

"Tell you what, Nev: get a new wand, and I'll teach you some new spells… defensive spells," Harry said, knowing that would egg him on. Remembering Neville's comment about his being a good teacher, it made him feel particularly fuzzy inside.

"Really?" Neville asked, a look of astonishment on his face.

"I promise," Harry solemnly said, between bites, able to eat a lot more food than ever before.

"Deal!" Neville chimed, a proud look on his face. He couldn't believe Harry was willing to teach him some spells. He had said no to Hermione, yet he was saying yes to him! Well, he would do his friend proud and try his best.

"So, are you going?" Neville asked after setting down his goblet of pumpkin juice and wiping a bit of juice from the side of his mouth that had escaped.

"I can't; the Dursleys didn't sign my permission slip," Harry said broodingly.

"Harry! Thanks for the Murtlap Essence! It really helped! It's so much better now!" one particular Gryffindor who had been in detention with Umbridge said.

"I'm glad it helped," Harry said quietly.

"It did! It really did!" agreed Claire; she was a second-year.

"Good," Harry simply stated.

Giving him another beaming smile, she went further down the bench, sitting with the other second-years.

"Why did she need Murtlap Essence?" Neville asked in confusion.

"Er, Umbridge… she used a Quill that made us write in our own blood," Harry explained showing the almost healed words in his own hand.

Neville paled drastically, looking a little sick; he sincerely hoped he didn't get Detention from her! Fortunately for him, Umbridge and all adult wizards and witches knew Madam Longbottom's fiery temper and connections. Nobody had forgotten Alice and Frank; anyone would do a favour for the old witch for them. She was very connected despite the fact that she didn't work in the Ministry, so Umbridge wouldn't under any circumstances try anything with him.

Umbridge didn't care about him anyway; she had bigger fish to fry. Like, say, Harry Potter... which would be the last thing she ever did.

\----- 

Neville finally received his answer; Harry was attending the game, sitting well away from everyone else. Neville, of course, sat beside him, joined by one Luna Lovegood a few minutes before the game started. Since it wasn't a Ravenclaw game, she felt she wasn't under any obligation to sit at the Ravenclaw side.

"Hey, Luna!" Neville grinned, happy to see her.

"Hi, Neville, Harry," said Luna, smiling back at them, a dreamy look on her face as she observed the spectators.

"Here come the Gryffindors! Gryffindor Captain Angelina Johnson, followed by Fred and George Weasley! Followed by Katie Bell! And Alicia Spinnet! With two new players on the team: a new Keeper― Ronald Weasley! Aaaaand…the Seeker― Ginny Weasley!" Lee Jordan shouted; he didn't seem to have the same spirit as usual.

"Do you regret not playing?" Neville asked, watching Harry's bored face.

"It was the first thing I was good at, Neville… but I think it was more to do with the flying than playing Quidditch," Harry admitted softly. At the age of eleven, he had been so excited to have been good at something, anything, that he had gone along with everything.

"Here come the Slytherins… Captain Montague, Crabbe, Goyle, Malfoy, Warrington, Bletchley, and Pucey," shouted Lee, with even less enthusiasm, if it were possible.

"Captains, shake hands!" Madam Hooch boomed. "Now, I want a nice clean game," she ordered, and the balls were released up into the air, and with great big swooshes that almost drowned out Madam Hooch's piercing whistle, the game began.

"And it's Johnson with the Quaffle, what a player that girl is, I've been saying it for years, but she still won't go out with me..." Jordan said through the microphone.

"JORDAN!" Minerva McGonagall shouted; her lips were pursed, showing her extreme disapproval.

"Just a fun fact, Professor, adds a bit of interest―and she's ducked Warrington, she passed Montague, she's ―ouch― been hit from behind by a Bludger from Crabbe… Montague catches the Quaffle, Montague heading back up the pitch and ― nice Bludger there from George Weasley, that's a Bludger to the head for Montague, he drops the Quaffle, caught by Katie Bell, Katie Bell of Gryffindor reverses... passes to Alicia Spinnet and Spinnet's away..."

"Do you think we have even the slightest chance of winning?" Neville asked, leaning over the barrier, a curious look on his face.

Harry merely shrugged. Everything had changed so much, who would have thought there would be a day he didn't care much for Quidditch?

"...Dodges Warrington, avoids a Bludger ―close call, Alicia― and the crowd are loving this, just listen to them, what's that they're singing?"

"Weasley cannot save a thing,  
He cannot block a single ring,  
That's why Slytherins all sing;  
Weasley is our King!

Weasley was born in a bin  
He always lets the Quaffle in,  
Weasley will make sure we win,  
Weasley is our King!"

was yelled from the sea of Green and silver stands of the Slytherin section.

"You'd think he'd know better than to listen, wouldn't you?" Harry mused, watching everything rather rapidly.

"Well that is a new one… doesn't even rhyme, the last part at least," Luna said in agreement.

Neville just smothered his amusement, he really, reeeeeallly liked Luna.

"Alicia passes back to Angelina, come on now, Angelina ― looks like she's got just the Keeper to beat ― SHE SHOOTS ― SHE ... ahhh…. Bletchley, the Slytherin Keeper, saves the goal, throws the Quaffle to Warrington,"

"He's going to shoot," Harry said; he had been playing long enough to know.

"They're getting louder," Neville said, and Ron was beginning to look as if he was about to regurgitate slugs as in second year again.

"Warrington with the Quaffle, Warrington heading for goal, he's out of Bludger range, with just the Keeper ahead, so it's the first test for new Gryffindor Keeper Weasley, brother of Beaters Fred and George, and a promising new talent on the team― come on, Ron!" Lee cheered, "Slytherins score!" he said, his voice sulky amid the deafening cheering coming from the Slytherin students. "So that's ten-nil to Slytherin―bad luck, Ron."

Unfortunately for poor Ronald Weasley... the singing was getting even louder!

"I can't watch this," Harry grimaced, turning away; what the hell had the Gryffindor team been reduced to? Even if he had been playing, there was nothing he could have done! Wood would probably have had a heart attack if he saw this!

"Do you want to leave?" shouted Neville over the roaring.

Harry stared back and shook his head; he might as well just watch the rest of it.

"Twenty-nil to Slytherin," shouted Lee; Ron had missed another Quaffle.

"GRYFFINDOR SCORE! Its forty-ten, to Slytherin; come on, Gryffindor!" yelled Lee.

POW!

A Bludger hit Ginny Weasley, causing her to land flat on her back on the Quidditch pitch. She wasn't too hurt, just terribly winded. It was a good job she had been so low down, or she would have been seriously hurt.

It was then Harry saw the Snitch; problem was, Malfoy had seen it too. Instead of sneering, Malfoy just stared at him for a few seconds, eyes level to him, before he zoomed off. Ginny was still hurt and unable to play, as Malfoy without trouble caught the Snitch.

"Malfoy catches the Snitch and ends the game! With one hundred and ninety points, Slytherin wins the game!" shouted Lee glumly, Gryffindors had only managed to score ten points.

The Slytherins surrounded Malfoy, pounding him on the back; they had won! Together the entire team dismounted making their way ―united together― towards the school. The same couldn't be said for the Gryffindors, they dismounted completely disgruntled; Ron, Harry noticed, flew down from the Keeper goals and walked back by himself.

\----

"Let me see your hand," Severus smoothly said, as soon as Harry came into his quarters.

Surprise flittered over Harry's features, before without hesitation he held his hand over. Warm hands took his palm carefully, and inspected it before Severus nodded briefly. "It should go away in the next few days," he said before letting go.

"That's good," Harry said, slipping into his normal seat.

"How are you feeling?" Severus asked.

"Okay; did you see the Decree she put up?" Harry asked.

Severus' lip curled in disgust at the mention of Umbridge; despite the fact she was stuck in the hospital wing, she was still making changes. He would have to do something about that, of course; unfortunately, Poppy would be stuck with her. "Indeed." Thankfully she wasn't targeting his team! She probably would be in for a surprise when she realized Harry wasn't on the team. She sure was missing a lot being stuck in the Hospital, after all.

"I told you she would stop me from playing," Harry simply said.

Severus didn't bother replying, knowing he was right. Summoning Dobby, he requested some food and drink for them.

"Was I really a bad student?" Harry asked out of the blue a few minutes later.

"Meaning what, exactly?" Severus asked, arching an eyebrow in curiosity. Months ago he would have said yes without fail. Of course, a few months ago he had been labouring under a lot of false assumptions. Things had changed, especially between himself and Harry. He wondered where Harry had gotten the notion that he was a bad student. Had Umbridge left the Hospital wing and said something to his son? Fury began bubbling again.

Harry stared at the fire, before speaking "It's just everyone seems surprised… when I answer their questions, I mean," he said.

Severus placed his elbows on his knees; calming down, he joined his hands together, staring at Harry and wondering how to answer that question. "No, you weren't and aren't a bad student. You were capable of more… now that you are demonstrating your full potential as a student, they will be surprised for a short period of time," Severus eventually said. He did indeed have a lot of potential; he had only uncovered that during the summer. The potions Harry had brewed were very good. This coming from a Master of the subject was as good a compliment as any student could receive. Especially considering he didn't normally complement any student unless it was very much deserved. Severus would say that Charms, Defence, and Potions were his strongest subjects.

Harry nodded his head in understanding, a warm glow settling into him. He really did love having someone to talk to.

"Tell me about your fourth year," Severus said, sitting back and drinking his coffee.

If Harry was surprised by the abrupt change in the conversation, he didn't show it. He was used to Severus’ asking him these kinds of things. Talking to him about everything, before he had gotten taken away, they had only gotten up to his third year.

"The summer was brilliant," Harry told him, grinning widely and thinking of Dudley with his huge tongue, "when I got to go to the Quidditch World Cup. It didn't last, though; after the match… everyone was just settling down when screaming started up. We ended up getting split up, er, and then the Mark was spelled into the sky. Using my wand!" he added indignantly. "Then they accused me of firing off the Mark."

"Excuse me?" Severus asked in surprise, too shocked even to think about covering it up. Who on this planet would accuse Harry Potter― Gryffindor's golden boy ―of firing the Dark Mark? Even if he was a Slytherin in Gryffindor clothing.

"Yeah, Crouch accused me of firing it; thankfully the others talked him out of it," Harry said. "I didn't even know what it was, or why everyone was panicking so much either."

Severus grimaced, a testament to how clueless Harry had been. Of course he had no doubt who had told him. No doubt that know-it-all Granger girl; there was a difference between a bright witch and a know-it-all. Granger was a big definition of a teacher's pet, and always, ALWAYS liked to think herself superior even to her teachers, given the fact that she constantly talked back to them... to him! She drove him up the wall with her attitude. Lily had been a very bright witch, eager to prove herself, but she hadn't been anything like Granger.

"That's when the visions began, I mean, really began. I saw HIM kill a Muggle, in some musty old house. The weird thing was… whatever he was in needed milk or something… because he had Pettigrew feeding him, nursing him to health. He knew Pettigrew, or Wormtail as He likes to call him, was only there because he was scared and a coward. In a few of the visions there was another man I didn't recognize at the time― Crouch Junior," Harry sighed.

Severus' lip unconsciously curled at the mention of his name and what had happened to him. He truly wondered if the Horcrux was contained; could it be? Or would his son continue to receive these visions? He hoped not… only time would tell.

"When we were going back to Hogwarts, there were remarks about something happening, something coming to Hogwarts. When we were told, I was so glad someone else would be hogging the limelight that year… I thought maybe I'd have a normal year… you know?" he said glumly.

"I can understand that wish, Harry," Severus agreed; he only wished he could give Harry that. If he couldn't, at least he could make it safe for him at last. Umbridge would never harm his son, nor touch a hair on his head. Ever.

"It was brilliant... up until my name came out, then you know what happened… everyone turned against me," Harry grumbled petulantly. "You didn't help either, those comments about the paper!"

Severus remained silent; normally he wouldn't have allowed a student to speak to him like that. Unfortunately though, Harry wasn't just any normal student, and to be perfectly honest, Harry was within his rights to be angry. Too bad he couldn't change things, not now with the Dark Lord back― he was going to have to be extremely cautious. It was a good thing Harry had that map of the school and an invisibility cloak. Otherwise he wouldn't have been able to help him at all while on school grounds.

"Sorry," Harry said, flushing bright red, he couldn't believe he had said something like that to Severus. He was honestly surprised a sarcastic comment hadn't left his teacher's lips.

"Continue," Severus said, brushing it off lightly; his onyx eyes, though, held a slight smidgen of guilt. Severus didn't let it linger too long; what was done was done, and he was doing all he could to rectify past mistakes.

"Everyone turned against me until the Dragon task, even Ron," Harry said, a bitter tone deep in his voice. "It was then I found out about the Polyjuice potion being brewed, while I was trying to figure out the clue to my egg," Harry admitted. "On my map, Crouch was seen roaming about the Potions classroom, of all places. I thought it was, you know… the old Crouch. I didn't realize until the end of the year that I never once saw Mad-eye Moody on the map."

"Hindsight isn't always a good thing, is it?" Severus said quietly.

"I just wish I had realized sooner," Harry admitted bitterly. He had liked Moody, or rather the, er, Death Eater, and it left a foul taste in his mouth just thinking about it.

"Understandable," Severus said. He waited patiently for Harry to continue; it was talks like this that made Harry open up to him. It had made him comfortable around him, confide in him, allowed Harry to rely on an adult. One that actually cared about him, Harry, as a child, not as the Boy-Who-Lived, or as a weapon. He was still extremely pissed off at Dumbledore; he barely spoke two words to the old fool when it wasn't required. He was sure Dumbledore realized something was off, but the old man would never find out what he knew.

"Dobby stole the Gillyweed from your store to help me with the task; I couldn't figure out what to do. I later learned that Dobby had overheard Moody talking about it in the staff room. I have to give Crouch his due, he knew what he was doing," Harry sighed.

Dobby was the only elf that would have risked everything to help his Harry Potter.

"Why did you feel the need to play the savior?" Severus asked ― that had reminded him of James Potter. Saving everyone just to make himself look better in the eyes of the school. Severus was surprised to see Harry flush bright red in embarrassment.

"I took the egg… too seriously; I thought they really would die if I didn't help them within the hour," Harry admitted. He didn't look up, too embarrassed to see the look on Severus' face. He had no doubt what was running through his mind. Stupid idiotic fool or something like that. He really did know Severus Snape far too well.

Severus failed to comment; instead, he shook his head: another preconceived notion was stripped away. Silly idiotic gullible boy― this was all thought in a very affectionate manner as well. He couldn't even insult the boy in his own mind anymore. This was, after all, someone he regarded as his son.

"When no one came for them, I helped them. Nothing much really happened until the third task," said Harry, his voice changing by the end of his statement.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Severus asked softly.

Tears were almost stinging his eyes, and he shook his head “no,” he wasn't ready to talk about it yet.

"We will talk about it, Harry," Severus adamantly said, "sooner or later; now how about we go and brew a potion?" He hated seeing Harry emotional like that; Cedric Diggory's death had hit him hard. He wasn't sure why, because as far as he knew, the boys had never crossed paths unless they played Quidditch, or until the Tournament. Harry had to speak about Diggory, though; it was affecting him, and Severus knew talking about it would get it out of his system. Unfortunately, he had gotten too soft, and didn't make Harry speak about it yet.

Harry grinned at him, his mood lightening, and he nodded his head. A potion sounded good to him. He knew Severus would make him talk about Cedric sooner or later. Severus always stayed true to his words.

====

"Dobby?" Severus called, once Harry was sure to be back at the Gryffindor common room.

"Yes, sir?" asked Dobby, popping into the room.

"Give this to Umbridge tonight," Severus smirked, his onyx eyes glittering dangerously. "This one tomorrow morning."

"Yes, sir," Dobby said, his eyes glowing eerily similar to his new “Master.” Nobody hurt his Harry Potter and got away with it. He was just happy to see someone helping his “Master Harry Potter;” no matter who he was bound to, his allegiance would always be first and foremost to Harry. The fact that his new Master liked his Harry made it much easier for the elf.

He was gone with a silent pop; the potion was placed into her stomach with elvin magic. He also made sure nothing would show up on the Medi-Witch's scans. Oh, yes, she had messed with the wrong boy. The glowing greenish eyes disappeared along with the rest of him, appearing back in the kitchen, no one the wiser.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the wonderful Jordre and Jake for editing it :)


	30. Chapter 30

A New Place To Stay  
Chapter 30   
Complications Ensue 

 

Christmas was swiftly approaching, one could tell by the rapid changes in the weather. Things had continued to be amusing at Hogwarts, to say the least. Umbridge was still being targeted. The thing was, Madam Poppy Pomfrey, the resident Matron, who healed the children's injuries, could do little to help her. One could question though, just how much Madam Pomfrey was actually trying. Professor Umbridge was not a very well-liked witch; in fact, it was probably safe to say she was even more hated than Professor Severus Snape. On that subject, Severus had been rather wicked to the little plump Witch. Who would have thought that Severus, of all people, would have a wicked hidden prank side to him? Although “prank” couldn't really be used in line with what he was doing to Umbridge. He was torturing her, playing with her mind, slowly wearing her down and humiliating her. She had come to the Great Hall every morning, the bags under her eyes becoming more, shall we say, noticeable as the days wore on. It was obvious for all to see that Umbridge wasn't sleeping right, thanks to the wonderful potions Severus had brewed. Not only that, he was making her see things that weren't there, causing crippling pains in her stomach, legs, back, and head. She was barely able to teach one class, never mind give out detentions, which was a good thing where the students were concerned.

Neville had gone to Hogsmeade; the thing that had nudged him to go the most was the fact that Harry was willing to train him if he got a new wand. He had been very squeamish about breaking the rules; he hadn't really done anything like that before. With Voldemort back, it was very dangerous to do anything... then again, he asked himself, what was the chance of Voldemort attacking Diagon Alley in the time it took to get a wand? That might happen to the likes of Harry Potter, but not to him. So his father's wand was now at the bottom of his trunk, and his new wand was suiting him better than ever. It was five inches, cherry wood, with unicorn hair for its core. He had gone with Luna, as Harry unfortunately hadn’t been able to attend. The Dursleys were still missing, which fact Dumbledore was keeping very quiet. It wouldn't do any good for the Ministry to discover this and try to control Harry. The awful thing about it was that Dumbledore wasn't doing it for Harry, but rather the Boy-Who-Lived; he couldn't lose control of the child. He had plans for him, and they most certainly didn't involve the Ministry of Magic. Or anyone else, for that matter... Too bad his plans were already unravelling behind his back.

The teachers were becoming rather proud of Harry's participation in class; his grades had shot up drastically since the beginning of term. It had started with his homework, his summer homework; the teachers had given him Outstandings and Exceeded Expectations. Now that was unusual; Harry normally only got an Acceptable for his summer homework. In the past it was because he had to do it in the dead of night, or worse still, during the train ride to Hogwarts. Not anymore; of course there had been much speculation as to the changes Harry was going through, but it was just that ― speculation. Nobody knew what was causing it, not even the great Albus Dumbledore. Of course Severus sneered and snarled every single time Harry was brought up, as he had done in the past. Nobody could know that things had changed, not just for both their safety, but the consequences of it.

Tonight, though, would be a test of character for both Harry and Severus, and whether they could hide their relationship. Harry and Neville had just come up to bed, eager to sleep after a hard day's studying and lessons. After a quiet goodnight to Neville, Harry occluded and fell asleep.

He was dreaming of Prince Manor, only it was different, the plants and Potions ingredients he had seeded were in full bloom. He was an adult, and he had a little boy, Severus Potter, running around. The Potions master was in the background, a very small smile on his face, and he looked relaxed, happy… as if the war had been over for a long time. Unfortunately, his dream took a turn for the worst… only this wasn't a dream… it was a vision, the first one he had received in a long time, and Harry wasn't happy about it in the least.

His body felt smooth, powerful, and flexible. He was gliding between shining metal bars, across dark, cold stone… he was flat against the floor, sliding along on his belly… it was dark, yet he could see objects around him shimmering in strange, vibrant colours… he was turning his head… at first glance the corridor was empty… but no… a man was sitting on the floor ahead, his chin drooping on to his chest, his outline gleaming in the dark… Harry put out his tongue… he tasted the man's scent on the air… he was alive but drowsy… sitting in front of a door at the end of the corridor… Harry longed to bite the man… but he must master the impulse… he had more important work to do… but the man was stirring… a silver Cloak fell from his legs as he jumped to his feet; and Harry saw his vibrant, blurred outline towering above him, saw a wand withdrawn from a belt… he had no choice… he reared high from the floor and struck once, twice, three times, plunging his fangs deeply into the man's flesh, feeling his ribs splinter beneath his jaws, feeling the warm gush of blood… the man was yelling in pain… then he fell silent… he slumped backwards against the wall… blood splattering on to the floor…

"Harry! HARRY!" Ron and Neville both yelled, trying to wake the boy they considered their best friend. Unfortunately, there was only one person Harry considered his best friend, and he wasn't a red-headed boy.

Harry's eyes opened wide, every inch of his body covered in icy sweat; his bed covers were twisted all around him like a straight jacket, which probably stopped him from hurting Weasley and Neville. He winced in agony as if a white hot poker were being applied to his scar.

"Harry?" Neville ventured, sitting on Harry's bed, looking deeply concerned for him. He jumped off the bed when Harry dove for the edge, realizing what was going to happen. Harry had rolled over and vomited over the edge of his mattress, panting for breath. All he could think of was getting to Severus... he didn't think of how late it was or if he'd be awake. All he was aware of was the driving need to get to Severus. He took no notice of Seamus or Dean peering through their curtains sleepily; Harry pushed himself out of bed, willing himself up, the pain still half-blinding him.

"Harry?" Neville asked again. "Should I call someone?"

"What did you see?" Ron whispered. But Harry just brushed passed him, woozy beyond belief, grabbing his invisibility cloak, shaking his head “no” to Neville before he placed it on and disappeared from the dorm.

"What do we do?" Ron asked, wide-eyed, for the first time in his life totally unsure of what to do. He had never been left out before; he had a feeling Harry had seen something.

"Nothing," Neville said. "Harry will be back when he's ready." He knew Harry would be as safe as possible on Hogwarts grounds. He also knew his friend wouldn't be stupid enough to leave, at least not without alerting someone. So with that he went back to bed. He was, of course, still worried about Harry, but Potter obviously wanted to be alone. The least Neville could do was allow his friend the time he needed to do whatever he wanted or needed.

\---------

Harry was stumbling blindly. His head felt like it was still on fire; his eyes burned with the images, his stomach heaving with the consequences of it. He couldn't allow himself to feel weak, he forced himself to keep going. His feet were frozen, against the sweat and the fever that was burning through him. Still his stomach churned, threatening to overwhelm him. For once Hogwarts behaved itself, as if sensing his urgency and hurt. No staircase moved the wrong way, no ghost bothered him, there was no Filch to hide from, and no cat. It was a silent-as-the-grave kind of quiet.

Harry at this point didn't care how much noise he made; he was just too damn sore and worried for that. As much as he disliked Ron, he didn't want to see the boy without his parents. Hell, he wouldn't wish it on his worst enemy. He couldn't, wouldn't go to Dumbledore, not after everything. Unless he had no choice... but he did now; he had Severus. He didn't want to disappoint the man, which was why he was going to him. He wondered as he crashed into the Potions classroom door, if Sev would be angry regardless? He had been Occluding... what if he didn't believe him?

Barrelling into his office door, he continued on until he found the hidden door towards Severus' quarters. He could only hope that nobody was there, meaning Dumbledore. He sighed in relief, almost regurgitating his food in the process. He had no doubt Severus probably heard it all― Severus was a very light sleeper, all to do with the ingrained response of always being alert. So it didn't surprise him that Severus was in front of him, wand up, a steely look on his face. Harry removed the cloak and proceeded to fall to the floor.

======

Severus practically jumped out of his sleep, hearing a loud thudding coming from somewhere. His wand was already in his hand and he stood up, ready for any oncoming confrontations. He looked at the time; it was four o'clock in the morning. There weren't many people who knew where his rooms were, even fewer people who would disturb him at this time of night. He was grouchy enough with adequate sleep, never mind without it; with Voldemort back his temper was ten times worse. Another bang alerted him to the fact that the intruder had actually entered his rooms. Stepping out of his bedroom, his eyes alert and troubled, he was stunned to find nobody there. It was either Dumbledore or Harry; both had the ability to conceal themselves from view. Nevertheless he was pissed off that either one of them would dare interrupt him at this time of night. He thought to himself, “This better be bloody important,” as Harry removed his cloak, falling, a look of exhaustion and fear upon his face. Severus automatically moved forward, stopping Harry's body from painfully meeting the floor.

Worried now, his anger had all but evaporated as he hoisted the sweat-soaked teenager into his arms. He struggled to lift him to the couch. Harry wasn't the lightweight he had been upon coming to Prince Manor; he was a strong, heavy young man now. He turned one of the ends of the couch into a comfortable pillow, so he was at least moderately comfortable. His feet were hanging over the end of his two-seater couch.

"Harry?" Severus asked softly, summoning a cloth and soaking it with water from his wand with a quick Aguamenti spell.

"Arthur Weasley…. he's in trouble… a snake…" Harry was able to say, taking big gulps of air.

Severus' face closed off; fortunately, Harry wasn't able to see that, or it would have made him extremely worried. Harry sighed as the cold cloth was wiped across his face, soothing him in a manner he had never experienced until today.

"Tell me more, Harry," Severus quietly said.

"He was guarding the Prophecy, in the Ministry of Magic… the snake was there… I don't know why," Harry rasped. "He's hurt; Nagini bit him lots of times― he's bleeding."

Severus spelled Harry with a cleaning charm, removing the sweat that covered his body, before spelling a clean pair of pyjamas on him. Then he proceeded to turn his couch into a bed for him. Going into his room, he grabbed a cover; returning to Harry, he put it over him and summoned a dreamless sleeping potion.

"Take this," Severus said. Seeing Harry was about to protest, he added, "I'll go and make sure he's okay; now drink the potion." The glass vial was pressed against his lips; once the potion was swallowed, Severus watched Harry fall asleep, staring at him for a few minutes afterwards. He shook himself of out of his stupor before quickly leaving.

\--------

Severus stalked though the halls of Hogwarts, a determined look on his face. The weirdest thing of all was, as he moved, he didn't see or hear a thing. In a castle full of students, teachers, ghosts, and the like, it was very odd to hear nothing. Even when he made his rounds, there were strange noises, especially house-elves going around doing their jobs. That's when the house-elves worked: in the dead of the night, cleaning Hogwarts.

If it wasn't Filch sneaking about, it was his blasted cat, Mrs. Norris... honestly, that was such a pathetic name. He was glad he lived in the dungeons; it was so much easier to avoid everyone and get out of Hogwarts. He wasn't just thinking of Death Eater meetings or Order ones, but right now he just hoped he had the ability to save Arthur Weasley. He knew that no matter what he said or did, Harry would blame himself for this. He knew Cedric Diggory a lot less than he knew Arthur Weasley ― he could only imagine how much worse it would make his son feel.

He made it to the gates of Hogwarts, his pace brisk and fast― there was no time to lose. He shoved his son from his mind, re-erecting his barriers. He had to remain calm, and thinking about failing wasn't helping his situation. He Apparated to the Ministry of Magic, which was pathetically easy to get into; it was baffling to him that The Dark Lord hadn't already taken over the blasted place. He knew it was only a matter of time, unfortunately, and with the Ministry gone, Hogwarts would soon be overtaken. He could only hope it didn't come to that. He knew better than most how much it would take for them to win this war. As usual, though, he'd play his part and hope for the best. Teaching Harry all he knew would help in the long run.

He wasn't a part of the guard that protected the Prophecy, but he knew about it. To be truthful, he felt it was a waste of time; one guard wasn’t going to protect it if The Dark Lord decided to grab it. Once he got to the hall, he saw Arthur Weasley, and it didn't look pretty. He knew it was useless trying to heal the wounds; until the venom was counteracted, they would continue to bleed. Which would mean he would be up all night, no doubt brewing the potion as soon as Dumbledore got to him. Grimacing in distaste, he grabbed a Polyjuice Potion, downed it and turned into a blond-haired, short young man, transfiguring his clothes so they weren't recognized as his. His robes were very distinctive, and made just for him, imbued with protection spells against magic and Potions. Once that was done he Apparated them both out, guiding himself and Arthur Weasley to St. Mungo's. He saw plenty of people around; not wanting to be asked awkward questions he Apparated himself right back out of there. He didn't Apparate straight to Hogwarts, but went to Hogsmeade first, then Hogwarts... not wanting his magical signature tracked.

By the time he had gotten to the steps of Hogwarts, the Polyjuice Potion had worn off, and he was back to his normal scowling self. He made sure to return his robes to the way he liked them, and he was billowing down to the dungeons, looking like a great big bat out of hell. Once he was back in his rooms, he drank a Pepper-up potion. A sigh left his lips as he slumped down on his favourite chair; it was truly going to be the longest night of his life. He wondered silently how he was going to explain this. Harry was in his quarters, and had no doubt woken his dorm-mates up. Weasley would probably tell Dumbledore as soon as possible; if not, Granger would force him to, come morning. Things had indeed gotten very complicated, far sooner than he had anticipated. He wondered why Harry had seen this vision; normally he only received ones that the Dark Lord was in. He wasn't a stupid man; if The Dark Lord had been in the Ministry, Arthur Weasley wouldn't be alive. He had sent his snake for a reason, and he wasn't sure why; it wasn’t as if the blasted thing could actually take the Prophecy from its place and bring it back to him.

======= 

"Albus! Albus! ALBUS!" Molly Weasley shrieked, fire-like tears falling down her face. She was frantic with worry about her husband; St. Mungo's didn't have the expertise needed to help him. Albus was her last hope that somehow her husband could survive.

"Molly? It's nearly five o'clock; what's the matter?" Albus asked, leaving his rooms and coming down into his office. He had heard Molly's hysterical cries, and immediately became concerned, very concerned that something had happened.

"Arthur," Molly choked out, the agony written across her face. "He's been attacked; someone brought him to St. Mungo's― he's been bitten by the snake. There's nothing they can do for him, they're giving him Blood-Replenishing Potions, but that's it."

"Molly, I'm coming over; I'm sure Severus can assist in helping cure Arthur," Dumbledore said, spelling robes over himself. He hastily sent Severus a Patronus message. He clapped his powerful hands, calling Fawkes over to him, and they disappeared in a ball of fire.

\---------

Severus wasn't wrong, he smirked half-heartedly; of course it would have been a full-blown smirk, if he hadn't been so damn tired. He didn't need to worry about the message waking Harry up; the beauty of Dreamless Sleep was that you could sleep through a tornado.

Severus, your expertise is needed urgently; come up to my office. 

Of course he would have been very curious if he hadn't already known what it was about. Sniffing in disdain, he realized he'd probably better head up there. Locking up his rooms so nobody could get in but himself, he headed through the Floo, closing it after himself.

As expected, Dumbledore wasn't there, so he took a seat, looking bored, angry and tired― all things he was feeling. He waited five minutes before Dumbledore showed up again; he felt some anger disappear at how tired and exhausted the headmaster looked. He might not be happy with Dumbledore right now, but he was being put through a lot of strain. He had to remember Harry, then his anger was back.

"What's the problem?" Severus asked, his black eyes staring at Dumbledore's with a well-rehearsed blankness in them.

"Arthur Weasley was bitten by Nagini while protecting the Prophecy," Albus sighed tiredly. "I am hoping you can help him by creating an antidote to Nagini's venom."

"I will need a sample of it," Severus said bluntly, standing up, not wanting to be in the man's presence any longer than necessary.

"I have it here," Dumbledore said, handing over the vial of venom, which had been carefully extracted from Arthur's bloody wound. He was losing a lot of blood, and Molly had been right― they were giving him Blood-Replenishing Potions so he could survive.

"I will see to it immediately," Severus said, taking the vial and turning around, having every intention of leaving.

"Severus? Are you all right?" Dumbledore asked, staring at Severus' retreating back. Things had been different since Hogwarts had started back up. He wasn't sure if it was because Severus was still angry with him for making him take Harry in for the summer or not, anymore. He knew Severus could hold a grudge; hell, he'd passed the grudge he felt for James Potter on to his son. With Voldemort back, it was the wrong time to hang onto grudges. Plus Harry might have to return to Prince Manor with Severus this summer; there was absolutely no sign of the Dursleys.

Severus turned back to face Dumbledore, staring him in the eye, having no fear that Dumbledore could read his mind. He had the best Occlumency walls one could ever hope to have; it had been a vital thing to learn when he’d become a spy. He sometimes forgot what Dumbledore had said to him when he first went to him. He had been so disgusted and angry with him, for wanting to save Lily and not the male Potter. He had grown attached, for reasons he didn't quite understand. He had stupidly wanted approval, not having received much of it in his life. He had forgotten he was being used; it had all come slamming back when Harry had told him about Dumbledore's actions: how he had sent Harry back to the Dursleys to be abused. Then there was the fact that he had callously woken Harry up after the Dementors' attack... risking serious repercussions in the process.

"Fine," Severus curtly said before leaving.

===

Harry woke up seriously disorientated and confused; opening his eyes he looked around and realized with a start that he was in Severus' chambers. He had spent the night; he hoped it didn't get them into trouble. He flushed in embarrassment and an emotion he didn't understand― love, maybe?― at the knowledge that Severus hadn't first pried every detail out of him. He had trusted him, helped him, let him sleep... Dumbledore hadn't done that even after the Tri-Wizard Tournament, after he'd been cursed with an Unforgivable, the Cruciatus Curse. He swallowed sharply; just remembering it made him sad. It also made him remember Cedric Diggory ― as if his horrible dreams weren't enough—although they had gotten a lot better recently; maybe it was because Severus was making him see― he truly wasn't responsible for his parents' death. Maybe it was time to let go of the rest of his demons.

"How are you feeling?" Severus asked, coming into the room and handing Harry some coffee. He had put a potion in it to give him strength and wake him up a little; it wasn't as harsh on the body as Pepper-up Potion.

"I'm okay; how's Mr. Weasley?" Harry quietly asked.

"No doubt the young Weasleys have been summoned to the Headmaster's office, and they probably know you aren't in your dorm. You have some lying to do, I'm afraid; as for Mr. Weasley, the potion has been administered, his wound healed, but for now he's … in a coma."

"Oh," Harry said quietly.

"Do not blame yourself for this, Mr. Potter; if you do I shall take you over my knee," Severus warned him furiously, anger deeply written across his face. "Unless you used the Imperius Curse to force the poor unsuspecting snake to do it?" he said, sneering at the teenager, sick to death of the pity parties he liked to go on.

"But, Severus… I thought maybe I was the snake… I felt like I was," Harry protested, swallowing thickly.

"And your forehead was sore?" Severus asked, sitting forward with a look of disbelief on his face.

Harry nodded numbly. "Sorer than it's ever been before."

"I'll be damned," Severus said, completely stunned.

"What? What's wrong?" asked Harry, his green eyes going wide in fear.

Severus stared at the teenager deep in thought, wondering if it was best to tell him, but he knew he had to. Harry already felt betrayed by Dumbledore, for that simple reason: he wouldn’t tell him what was going on. He probably felt more betrayed by that than he did by Dumbledore’s sending him back to the Dursleys. Thinking that caused his lip to curl in disgust; he swiftly removed it, seeing Harry's confused eyes staring at him. Those eyes were going to be the death of him, he was sure of it. It was the one thing he had a weakness for, green eyes. Dumbledore had used it against him after Lily had died and had made him say the Vow to help Harry.

"I think perhaps the snake might be a Horcrux as well," Severus eventually said.

"But I occluded before bed, honest!" Harry said, half in protest, half defensively.

"I have no doubt you did; I think if I search, I'll find the Horcrux has come free again… that my containing it wasn't permanent. Unfortunately, we cannot do it right now; it would only tire us both out. Tonight, come down when you can, and I'll do it for you then," Severus grimly replied.

"Okay," Harry said, quietly sipping his coffee, grateful for the warmth. His hands were getting cold; it was the Dungeons, and he wasn't used to them yet.

"The teachers tell me you've been doing very well in class," Severus said, staring at the teenager. "I'm very proud of you." It was worth saying those damning words, to see Harry's face light up. For some reason, just seeing it made Harry look smaller, younger really, than his true age. Most children grew out of the need for reassurances by the age of nine or ten. Harry had never had that chance. It was a good thing, though; it would make Harry want to work harder to hear the praise, which meant it would be easier for him to teach Harry everything he needed.

"Thank you." Harry grinned, his entire body flushing at the praise. He had never felt so good about himself before. Was this what it felt like when someone praised you? The warm soft glow? Then why didn't Ron do better at school and try to please his parents? He shook his thoughts off and finished his coffee.

"Tonight we will also talk about the ending of your fourth year," Severus said sternly; he had to let Harry get it out. Otherwise it would just continue to poison him, consume him, until he felt nothing but hurt by it. He wasn't going to let Harry blame himself for it, and until he figured out why he blamed himself, he had nothing to work with, nothing to convince Harry that he wasn't to blame. He hadn't been there that night, and nobody had told him anything.

"All right," Harry grumbled, going through to the kitchen and washing out his cup, knowing better than to leave it lying. Severus didn't like that. Of course it dawned on Harry just how much he knew about Severus Snape; he knew more about Sev than his own godfather or parents. It hurt for a few seconds before he felt at peace. He wouldn't think of them; he couldn't live in the past. He had a future to look forward to, he thought to himself, remembering the lovely dream of being older and at Prince Manor.

"I have noticed Granger has been more… annoying lately… care to share why?" Severus asked, walking through with his own cup.

"I have no idea," said a clueless Harry Potter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Jake and Jordre for editing this as always :)


	31. Chapter 31

A New Place To Stay  
Chapter 31   
Dumbledore's Demands and Severus and Harry's Conversations

 

Harry wasn't surprised to get a note from Albus Dumbledore, demanding he go up to his office at lunchtime. Despite knowing why, his stomach twisted in nervous anticipation. He could only hope that Severus had taught him enough, so he could lie to Dumbledore effectively. Who knew what Dumbledore would do if he knew they were getting on? Dumbledore wanted to be the only one in his life, directing him and manipulating him. He had known that unconsciously since he was eleven years old, but he had been too naive to realize the extent of it ― or where it would lead. It was hard, though, because Harry had been fond of Dumbledore. At breakfast gossip had been rife ― wondering why the Weasleys and Hermione were missing. He'd also heard his name mentioned as well, which didn't surprise him.

"Harry, are you okay?" Neville asked, his chubby face frowning in concern as he took his seat next to him. "You didn't come back to the dorm last night; McGonagall came in an hour or so after you left! She took Ron and I'm assuming the rest of the Weasleys away on an urgent family emergency."

"Really?" Harry asked, straining to look surprised; poor Neville bought it, though.

"Yeah, Ron told her, though―about your nightmare," Neville quietly explained.

Harry grimaced; great, the red-headed idiot really couldn't keep his mouth shut. Thank Merlin he wasn't his friend anymore. So Dumbledore did know; boy, he was really going to have to act. He wasn't going to let Dumbledore know about his nightmare. He didn't want Dumbledore watching him even more closely. He was surprised, really; Dumbledore had been avoiding him all year, so why was he sending for him now? He would have been so bitter and angry if he'd not had Severus to go to for help. He remembered Severus telling him he'd be talking tonight. He wanted to groan again; it really was going to be a long day... and Severus hadn't had any sleep last night either. So he wouldn't be in the mood to negotiate with him. He wouldn't be able to put it off.

"So, are you okay?" Neville asked once more.

"I'm fine, Nev," Harry grinned reassuringly.

"Has the post come already?" Neville asked, catching Harry's post on the table― the letter from Dumbledore.

"No; Dumbledore wants to see me after lunch," Harry said, gobbling down his breakfast.

"Oh," was all his friend had to say.

"Are you staying for the holidays?" Harry asked, wanting to get off the subject of Dumbledore; he could barely tolerate thinking about the old fool, never mind talking about him.

"No, neither is Luna… but…. she's hoping you would teach her too when you help me," Neville whispered, biting his lip anxiously. He was obviously worried that Harry would say no, considering how he had been with everyone else around him.

"Yeah; why not?" Harry said, nodding his head slowly; Luna had never done anything to him. In fact, she was nice; she didn't pretend the way some of the others did, and she was good to Neville. Neville liked her a lot, and maybe with Luna there, Neville would work harder to impress her. Suppressing his smirk, his mind nodding at his Slytherin plan, he contentedly finished his breakfast, waiting patiently for Neville to finish his.

"Brilliant!" Neville exclaimed happily.

Harry mused that at least someone was in a good mood today.

"What do you have first?" Harry asked, taking a drink of his pumpkin juice. He preferred the freshly squeezed orange juice at Prince Manor over the frozen juice served here. He also hated the fact that they didn't have much fruit here, just the occasional apple or orange. Sometimes Harry wondered how wizards and witches didn't get fat, with all the greasy, fatty food they ate. They had nothing healthy to eat; Granger had moaned about it often enough.

"Herbology," Neville said, grinning in triumph that he'd remembered his first class. Poor Neville was a big klutz and would forget his own head if it wasn't sewn on. Harry had to grin at his friend's infectious happiness.

"Me too," murmured Harry, sitting and waiting impatiently for the day to begin; he wanted it over and done with. Harry's hair raised up on its ends, he could feel someone looking at him. Normally it didn't bother him; everyone found something to stare at him for. Looking around he noticed it was Dumbledore staring at him. He didn't keep eye contact, just dismissed him and went back to speaking to Neville.

"Ready to go?" Harry asked.

"Sure," said Neville, washing down his last bite with juice and standing up, grabbing his bag, ready to get to his favourite class of the day.

\--------

"Sorry, Nev; I have to go to Dumbledore's office," Harry said quietly, as they walked towards the lunch hall.

"Oh?" Neville said curiously; he could hear the disgust coming from Harry with that single world, “Dumbledore.” He wondered curiously why they weren't…. being normal as they’d used to. He had noticed over the years the eye Dumbledore kept on Harry each time they were in the same room. He'd never removed his eyes from him during meals for four years. Now, though, he noticed that Dumbledore looked anywhere other than at Harry. Many thought he was idiotic and insignificant just because he was clumsy and forgetful, but the two things had nothing to do with the other.

"Yeah, he wants to talk to me." Harry sighed in irritation at his lunch being taken from him.

"Would you like me to save you some?" Neville asked.

"I'd like that, Nev," Harry replied, smiling gratefully, "I have to run; I'll see you in about half an hour!"

"Okay," Neville replied, giving a small wave at Harry's retreating form.

"Bye," Harry called back, waving himself before he glumly made his way to the Headmaster's office. He occluded his mind repeatedly, praying that it would be enough to keep Dumbledore out. It helped that he had no intention of meeting Dumbledore's eyes.

"Cockroach clusters," Harry said bracing himself for the conversation that was sure to come.

The Gargoyle moved aside; Harry stepped on grudgingly and was lifted up to the Headmaster's office. He knocked on the door, grimacing in distaste at how cheerful Dumbledore sounded. He twisted the lion door knob and entered the red and gold office.

"Ah, Harry, sit down!" beamed Dumbledore, looking for all the world extremely pleased to see Harry.

Harry, without a word, sat down opposite Dumbledore, staring anywhere other than at Dumbledore's eyes. He knew it was considered rude, but he didn’t care right now.

"I’m sure you are wondering what happened to Ron and his family," Dumbledore said; it was more of a statement than a question.

"I suppose so," Harry murmured.

"First I must ask… what happened last night, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, frowning in confusion; why was Harry not looking at him? Was this the boy's way of getting him back for not paying attention to him during the year? He almost wanted to sigh in exasperation; this was just ridiculous. He needed answers from the boy, and he needed to know if he was telling him the truth.

"Nightmare," Harry stated. "I woke the dorm up, and I knew I wasn't going to get back to sleep. I went to the Room of Requirement, where I ended up falling asleep." He managed to look a little sheepish, solely for Dumbledore's sake. After all the years of looking scared at the Dursleys', it wasn't a hard task.

"Just a nightmare?" Dumbledore enquired. Harry seemed to be telling the truth, but damn it, the boy wouldn't meet his eyes, and it was starting to get on his nerves.

"Yes, sir," Harry frowned, confusion marring his features. So Dumbledore was fishing for more information. So he suspected Harry had had a vision of Arthur Weasley... well, surely he couldn't anymore? Dumbledore couldn't think for a second he wouldn’t tell someone if Arthur was in danger? He might have fallen out with Ron, but he'd never let his father die because of it. "Why?"

"What was your nightmare about?" Dumbledore asked insistently.

"The night Voldemort returned," Harry whispered. It was a perfectly valid excuse, after all. Sometimes he still had nightmares of that night, with his parents and Cedric blaming him for everything. They'd become a lot less frequent, with Severus telling him he wasn't to blame, making him see he truly wasn't responsible for the death of his parents. Unfortunately, he still believed himself responsible for the death of Cedric; nothing could erase it. He'd like to see Severus try to convince him it wasn't his fault. He snorted inwardly at the thought... it would be amusing, to say the least.

"I see," said Dumbledore. It was obvious he wasn't going to get anything from the teenager; perhaps Sirius would have better luck. He had to know if Harry had seen anything of what had happened. If not, all his assumptions had been wrong. "Arthur Weasley was attacked last night…" he didn't get to continue.

"What?!" exclaimed Harry, his eyes wide and shocked; even Severus would have congratulated him on his acting. Then again, Severus knew just how good Harry was at acting and keeping his secrets. To Severus, Harry was his secret Slytherin son.

Dumbledore's heart sank out through his butt at Harry's pronouncement; the boy had obviously not seen anything. Harry couldn't act to save himself, and he'd made sure Harry felt the need to play the hero. Harry wasn't a good liar, and would never have let anything happen to Arthur Weasley; it seemed his digging was for naught. Harry had obviously been speaking the truth. So Voldemort hadn't gone with his snake to the Ministry; that was a good thing for all concerned.

"He is fine, Harry; no need to worry," Dumbledore soothed, "Have you received any more visions of Voldemort lately?" Dumbledore asked.

"No; I'd tell you," Harry said irritated. "How's Mrs. Weasley?" he asked, concerned about the mother of the Weasley family.

"She's doing a lot better, now she knows her husband will survive," Dumbledore said.

"That's good," Harry gratefully sighed.

"Now, Harry, since this is the last day before school ends, would you like to join your friends at Grimmauld Place?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes twinkling. At least there he didn't have to worry about the amount of time the boy spent in the library or with the Longbottom boy.

"I don't know if you've noticed or not," Harry said with poorly hidden sarcasm, "but I'm not exactly talking to Ron and Hermione, so no, thank you," he finished, deadpan.

"But your godfather is there," Dumbledore said, extremely taken aback.

"Things would just be awkward if I was to go to Grimmauld Place right now; plus I've signed up for staying over Christmas and I'd prefer to…even if Neville isn't staying," Harry said, firmly and resolved.

"Ah, yes, how are you and Mr. Longbottom getting along?" Dumbledore asked, a benevolent look on his face. Inwardly, though, he couldn't believe those two boys had become such close friends. Frankly it gave him the creeps; both boys had been prophesied to bring down Lord Voldemort—well, that was, until Harry had been marked, ensuring that the Prophecy was about him. Worse still, he knew Neville could understand Harry on a level Hermione and Ronald could not. He needed them all to be friends for the fate he had in store for them to come true. Neville wouldn't push Harry into doing the things he needed done, not like Hermione and Ronald would.

"Brilliantly; he's a good friend. Always has been," Harry said, smiling warmly when he thought about him. He was the only one that didn't boss him about, nose around, and urge him to do things he'd rather not do. In fact, he had tried to stop them, he remembered fondly... and then Hermione had used the petrifying spell on him, of course. Poor Neville had been stuck like that until morning. That was something he'd always feel rather guilty about. Neville didn't have confidence as it was, without being struck down by fellow Gryffindors. He hoped that would change over time; especially now that he planned on teaching him.

"With the Ministry invading Hogwarts, I'd rather you went to your godfather's," Dumbledore said.

"No, thank you, sir; I'll stay. Can I go? I want to have lunch," Harry asked, standing up, practically ending the meeting. Without waiting for confirmation, he said, "Goodbye, sir," and promptly opened the lion-handled door and walked out, without so much as a by-your-leave! Dumbledore couldn't have been more stunned, as he gaped at Harry's back. Harry had always been desperate to see his godfather! What had changed? Had they had a falling out? He had to find out, and as soon as possible.

\---------

Harry entered Severus' quarters, his shoulders slumped in exhaustion; he was grateful the day was coming to an end. He basically plonked himself down on the couch, sighing in relief, glad to take the weight off his feet and back. Severus wasn't in his quarters; he was used to the routine now, and knew he was either in detention or doing rounds. He stayed there for ten minutes before reluctantly getting back up. He went to the kitchen, put the kettle on and made himself and Severus a coffee, knowing how he liked it.

It was nice, being able to take care of someone, even in a small way. His thoughts began to wander, on what to get Severus for Christmas. Unfortunately, he didn't know Severus well enough even to guess… well, he supposed he knew him a little, he thought, making the coffee absentmindedly. Once it was done, he put a keep-warm charm on Severus' dark coffee and put it on the table, and curled up on the couch with his own. What if he got him something to do with potions? He'd like that, surely? Or was it too obvious? He couldn't ask― he probably wouldn’t get an answer anyway. He wouldn't be able to leave to get anything either… then he remembered the magazines Severus had on the table. Sitting up, he grabbed the closest one― auctions, through Gringotts? He didn't know they did that kind of thing. Then again, how else would they get rid of stuff that belonged to the lines that had died out? He read the front and realized it was people selling stuff through Gringotts. Gringotts also sold properties and artifacts to reclaim money from loans people took out. He made a note to himself never to make deals with Goblins; they were obviously sneaky buggers. Oh, Harry had no idea just how sneaky.

Flipping through the book, trying to find something interesting, he came across something that was fuzzy once he stared at it― he could read it for a minute before it became fuzzy once more. How peculiar. Reading about it― “Unknown Language,” ―last owned by a Mr. Gaunt. He'd never heard of anyone with the last name Gaunt; the book was extraordinarily cheap. It was bound, but it looked as though it had been created before books were bound. He heard the door open, but paid no mind. Staring at the book listing, he muttered, "How odd." Hearing Severus' sharp intake of breath, he looked up in confusion.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, his green eyes gazing in curiosity.

"You just spoke in Parseltongue," Severus said, sitting down in his normal chair, stifling his smile at seeing a coffee waiting for him ... exactly as he liked it. Nobody had done that for him, until Harry, that was. He'd always been a loner, and it had been fine by him. It would have just been more heartache, and he couldn't take any more. His life had always been a bleak one; Lily had been his one true shining light during his childhood and teen years. He'd tried too hard to prove he didn't mean it; he'd slept outside the Gryffindor common room and had refused to move until she’d come. He'd begged and begged to no avail; she’d continued to rebuff all his attempts at reconciliation. That same stubbornness her son had received, judging by the fact that he had yet to make up with Granger and Weasley. Then again, he'd not seen Granger or Weasley do a thing to make up with him. They'd tried to pretend nothing had happened, as if the conflict had been resolved. Harry hadn't appreciated it at all.

Harry blinked in astonishment. "You know, I don't understand that; I wished there was more information on it. I don't even know when I'm doing it! I thought everyone could talk to snakes!" Harry said, shaking his head wryly. "I wonder if it's like that for everyone…"

"I don't think so," Severus said honestly, "Nagini is always around the Dark Lord… I've never seen him accidentally talking Parseltongue," he stated calmly, relaxing back and drinking his still piping-hot coffee.

"Maybe it's just me, then," Harry pouted childishly.

"Perhaps," Severus said. "Maybe you've just never nurtured your power. Instead you've kept it hidden because you care too much what others think." He was nothing if not honest. He knew he had hit the nail on the head, when Harry flushed in embarrassment. Severus loved when he was able to provoke a genuine reaction from his son. He was far too good at acting, as proven by the past four years.

Harry stared at the magazine, hiding his flush; he realized if he'd slipped into Parseltongue, maybe the book was actually… Parselscript, or was it Parselword? He wasn't exactly sure. He wondered what secrets it could unveil? Maybe it was something Severus would like? Would he even be able to translate it? It was worth a shot, and it was really cheap, only ten Galleons.

"How do you buy things from this?" Harry asked curiously.

"What's caught your interest?" Severus asked curiously from where he sat.

"A book," Harry honestly answered.

"Take out your wand," Severus instructed. "See the black dot on the side? Beside the price?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded curiously.

"Put your wand firmly on the dot and let your magic travel through it," Severus directed, watching Harry curiously. There was so much the child didn't know; was it like that for all Muggle-raised children? He'd been Muggle-raised, sort of, but he'd known a lot about the magical world through his mother. She'd been a shitty mother, but she'd told him the things he'd needed to know about his magic, the wizarding world, and his line, the Prince family; it was how he'd ended up with his nickname, “The Half-Blood Prince.”

"Cool," Harry murmured, watching a red line magically appear, then the word “sold” appeared before it blinked out of existence. "What happens next?" he asked, excitement simmering through him; his tiredness had evaporated.

"The goblins will send it to you; the money will probably have already been taken out of your account," explained Severus patiently.

"How do they know it was me?" Harry asked, puzzled.

"The first time you step foot into Gringotts, your magical signature is saved—or rather, the second you step into your vault," Severus explained. "It's the safest place in the world for a reason."

"Tell that to Quirrelmort," snorted Harry, not believing it for a second.

Severus snorted in amusement; that had to have been the most childish thing he'd ever heard Harry say. He didn't answer, knowing Harry did have a point about Gringotts.

"Tell me about the third task," Severus requested. He certainly knew how to change the subject. Thankfully, though, Harry was ready for it, so his pout wasn't … too childish.

Harry sighed. Putting the magazine down, he began talking, his voice changing to a deep melancholy tone as he spoke for the first time of that night. "We went into the maze, getting by obstacles, but then I head Fleur screaming. I followed the sound until I got to her, and found Krum performing the Cruciatus Curse on her. I stunned him when I realized he was under the Imperius curse. Fleur was too hurt to continue on, so I sent red fireworks up for her," he said, his eyes glazing in remembrance of a day he'd likely never forget.

Severus nodded, keeping quiet; now they were getting somewhere. He wanted to know why Harry believed himself responsible. If he could get that notion out of his head, Harry would feel a lot better. Guilt would only hinder him and stop him from doing what he had to do. He knew, believe him, he knew what it was like to have crippling guilt bearing down on him. He'd carried it around for so long, and Harry, bless his soul, had forgiven him. In fact he'd made it seem like he didn't have anything to be sorry for. The guilt had lessened so much, and helping Harry face his destiny was making his guilt almost disappear.

"I continued on," Harry croaked out, and Severus stilled, they were getting closer to what Harry perceived was his fault. "I'd been bitten by a spider, and took it down before Cedric and I ended up right near the cup. Only Cedric began getting pulled into the bush by branches. Instead of continuing on, I was the idiot that helped him out; that was my first mistake. The second was asking Cedric to take the cup with me." His green eyes were filled with tears.

Severus wanted to close his eyes and sigh; well, now he knew. So that's why Harry blamed himself. He'd taken his Gryffindor act way too far and asked Diggory to take the cup. How the hell was he supposed to help Harry with this? It was worse than he’d feared. Although he had always been curious how they both ended up taking it.

"As soon as we touched it, we were Portkeyed out of the maze," Harry related, his voice dry and thick with sadness. "Cedric thought it was another part of the Tournament. I thought so too… We saw someone coming towards us, it looked like someone with a baby. Then my forehead split open in agony," he said, rubbing at his forehead as if he was experiencing the pain all over again.

"Are you okay?" Severus quietly asked, his onyx eyes regarding Harry anxiously.

"I'm fine," murmured Harry. "It was the worst it had ever hurt before, and I had no idea how to get us out of there. I had no idea the Portkey would return us to Hogwarts, either. Before I could even think to tell him, in hopes he could get us out of there ... after all, he was the one with seven years of magical education!" Harry cried indignantly.

Severus nodded in understanding; he could see where Harry was coming from. Severus still didn't know how Harry had managed to out-manoeuvre Voldemort and his Inner-circle Death Eaters. With only four years of magical training, it was a bloody miracle.

"A voice shouted ‘kill the spare.'" Harry choked on his words, his eyes closed as if he was reliving the horror of that day. "Then the green light sped towards Cedric and hit him; I could do nothing but stand there like an idiot." A shudder wracked his frame.

"You were a fourteen-year-old boy; I've told you before you are not responsible for other people's actions; do you understand me?" Severus growled in exasperation. Sometimes in life you had to be cruel to be kind. Harry needed this; he didn't need to be coddled and told everything would be all right. He wasn't stupid enough to feed Harry that lie. Life was going to be hell, and it was best if he just made the best of and accepted what was happening. Not blame himself, but make a future for himself, one that would hopefully be without Voldemort in it and he having survived.

Harry smiled despite the gravity of the situation; he could always count on Severus being blunt and honest with him. It was nice… not being told everything would be okay. It felt nice being able to talk about what had happened too, just as it had been to talk through everything else. He really loved Severus; the man was a breath of fresh air in Harry's rocky life. "Yes," he murmured finally.

"Good; continue," Severus said, his onyx eyes sparkling with triumph. Finally, maybe now Harry would be truly able to get over what had happened to Cedric Diggory, although he had a feeling it might not be that easy.

"I was in shock; I barely remember being tied to the tombstone. I remember looking down and seeing Tom Riddle Senior written on it. It was his father's tomb. Before long Pettigrew dragged a huge man-sized cauldron next to me. I think it was the most terrified I had ever been; back then we had always been at Hogwarts. This time I was truly alone... and I didn't understand what was going on. Vol… The Dark Lord was a disgusting, snake-like baby-thing; Pettigrew put it in the water. I was pathetically begging whoever was listening for it to drown." Harry snorted in remembrance of his patheticness. As if Pettigrew would let anything like that happen to his “Master.”

"You did yourself proud, Harry; any other fourteen-year-old would have been sobbing, begging to be let go," Severus said honestly, not liking Harry's tone of voice as he told him of his thoughts of that night.

"Pettigrew started a ritual: 'Bone of the father, unknowingly given; you shall renew your son.' Then Pettigrew cut off his own hand, and said, 'Flesh of the servant, willingly given: you shall revive your master'…" Harry was frowning trying to remember if he was remembering it right. He'd been so numb that night, he hadn't listened ― he'd been too terrified. He touched his inner elbow, remembering the pain of the knife slicing into his skin "Then Pettigrew cut my arm open, and took the blood over to the Cauldron and said the words, 'Blood of the enemy forcefully taken: you shall resurrect your foe.'"

Severus silently flicked his wand, and the kettle boiled, then it floated over. He filled their cups, and then he summoned the milk, knowing Harry didn't like his black. He probably would prefer juice, but he didn't have any in his quarters; perhaps he should invest in some, knowing Harry liked his orange juice. This was the only thing that would wet his parched mouth. He silently handed it over; the story was finally getting good.

"Then what happened?" Severus asked quietly.

"He came back," Harry simply said. "Completely bloody naked and disgusting."

Severus choked on his coffee; gathering his temporarily scattered wits, he glared at the teenager, but Harry wasn't paying attention to him. His eyes were glazed over as if he were a million miles away.

"He started examining his own body; after he'd finished, he raised Pettigrew into the air and threw him against the headstone I was tied to. Then he began laughing." Harry shuddered. He'd never forget that laugh or the sense of déjà vu that seemed to follow after it. "Pettigrew lay slumped, pleading with him, saying he’d promised, and then when he demanded his arm, he looked grateful. Then the Dark lord just laughed, and demanded his other arm. He pressed the Dark Mark with a wand, then muttered about how they'd know and how he'd see."

Severus listened intently, remaining quiet and letting Harry get rid of his demons.

"Then he said to me, 'You stand, Harry Potter, upon the remains of my late father. A Muggle and a fool. . . very like your dear mother. But they both had their uses, did they not? Your mother died to defend you as a child . . . and I killed my father, and see how useful he has proved himself, in death. . . .You see that house upon the hillside, Potter? My father lived there. My mother, a witch who lived here in this village, fell in love with him. But he abandoned her when she told him what she was. . . . He didn't like magic, my father... He left her and returned to his Muggle parents before I was even born, Potter, and she died giving birth to me, leaving me to be raised in a Muggle orphanage... But I vowed to find him... I revenged myself upon him, that fool who gave me his name... Tom Riddle...'" intoned Harry.

Severus sucked in a harsh breath, fury momentarily getting the better of him. He hated anyone speaking harshly of Lily, and to hear Voldemort saying that to her son made him furious.

"Then the Death Eaters started coming; he began talking to them, about how it had been thirteen years, yet they answered the call as if it were only yesterday. He really is one for dramatics, isn't he? Going on about asking himself why did that band of wizards not come to aid the master of those who'd sworn eternal loyalty. ‘They must have thought me broken, gone,’ he said; then he went on about them not thinking he'd come back and Dumbledore being the champion of Mudbloods and Muggle-borns. Then he went on about confessing himself disappointed," Harry said, rolling his eyes in obvious exasperation. "Then they all began bowing and pleading with him to forgive them. He used the Cruciatus curse on them, then gave Pettigrew a silver hand," Harry said, flexing his own hand as he remembered it.

Severus grimaced in disgust; he absolutely loathed Pettigrew now that he knew he was the one responsible for selling out Lily.

"Then he began to speak to them individually: Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, McNair, and Nott. He spoke of the Lestranges being entombed in Azkaban and going to get rewarded for their faithfulness," said Harry.

Severus stiffened; that couldn't mean what he thought it did, could it? He closed his eyes briefly; it seemed as though the Dark Lord was planning on breaking into Azkaban. He had rather hoped that the Dark Lord wouldn't do anything like that yet. Releasing the Lestranges... the world was definitely in danger― Bellatrix was completely insane, probably more so now.

"He said he'd get them out of Azkaban, and that he'd recall the banished Giants, and that the Dementors were their natural allies," Harry continued. "He said there were six missing Death Eaters: 'three dead in my service, one, too cowardly to return,' and that he'd pay. Then he went on about how one had left him forever, and that he'd be killed… I assume he was talking about you? Because it was the Headmaster of Durmstrang that was too cowardly, right?"

"You are correct, yes," Severus said smoothly.

"Thought so. Then he said one had already re-entered his service, and that was the reason I was here…" Harry said, gulping nosily. "Then they all looked at me as though I was a piece of meat. I was terrified; I could see no way out." Unnoticed, a tear ran down his face.

Severus' heart clenched in sympathy; no fourteen-year-old should have had to go through that. Damn Dumbledore, who seemed determined to hone his bloody weapon. He knew something was wrong, but he let it continue under him! He had no idea how close he'd come to losing Harry. How close they all had come to losing Harry.

"I was introduced as the guest of honour." Harry grimaced, continuing, "Then Lucius Malfoy began prattling on about wanting to know how he'd achieved it… how he'd come back to them."

Severus snorted, that sounded like Lucius, he'd always liked to smarmy up to the Dark Lord.

"He said it all began and ended with his 'young friend,'" Harry said sarcastically. "Of course he meant me. He said, you know how they call this boy my downfall, you all know on the night he tried to kill me, my mum died in an attempt to save me, and he said he could now touch me.

"Then he did," he croaked. "If I thought earlier was bad… it was nothing on when he touched me… I don't know how I didn't scream. I couldn't― it was stuck in my throat ... it was like I was paralyzed."

"How the hell did you get away?" Severus asked in complete astonishment.

"He then went on about Quirrell, then Pettigrew returning, then he went on about how he'd started his 'means to an end.' Jorkins... he'd got information out of her. About the Tri-Wizard tournament and where it was being held. He broke through a memory charm; she'd seen Crouch Junior and been Obliviated, by the Senior Crouch, obviously. Then he went on about how smart he had been to get me where I was, away from Dumbledore's safety, and that he couldn't touch me while I was at the Dursleys." Harry frowned at that. He was supposed to think of that house as home, but he never had. He'd been nothing but a slave in that house for fourteen years. "Once he was finished," he went on, biting his lip, "he used the Cruciatus curse on me; the pain… I'd never felt anything like it before in my life, and I thought I had known all kinds of pain. I just wanted to die so it would be over," Harry moaned.

Severus gritted his teeth; he was finding it extremely difficult to let Harry keep talking, especially hearing him saying something like that, but he knew all too well what Harry had felt. It was the Dark Lord's favourite spell, and Severus had experienced it often enough... but not at the tender age of fourteen.

"He then said I'd survived him by a lucky chance, that he was going to prove it here and now by killing me. He said there was no Dumbledore to save me, no mother to die for me, but that he'd give me a chance. He gave me back my wand and he wanted me to duel him," Harry said, his haunted eyes meeting black ones. Severus gasped, seeing the torture within; he had wrongfully assumed Cedric Diggory was what was eating him up inside. He'd had it wrong; it was what he had gone through that night.

"I thought about running, but my leg was injured… the spider had bitten me." Harry had his hands balled into fists, his face contorted in anger or misery... maybe both? Severus wasn't exactly sure. "Then he asked me if I had been taught to duel; he said we must bow to each other… that the niceties had to be observed."

Severus' own nails were digging into his palms, nearly drawing blood as he continued to listen to Harry.

"I was told to bow to death; the Death Eaters began laughing," Harry said, grabbing at his hair as he remembered that night with a startling clarity that he hadn't had before. "He forced me to bow to him… not the Imperius curse, but something else…"

Severus had an idea what it could have been as fury continued to course though him at an unprecedented rate.

"They laughed at me again," he said. He'd thought Dursley’s getting the better of him had been humiliating, but it had been nothing on what he felt surrounded by grown Death Eaters. "So humiliating, yet he continued on about telling me I was good, that I was to duel him like a man… like my father had." A sick look began to form on Harry's face; Severus sat up, alarmed― did he need to get a basin or waste basket? He really did look as though he was going to be sick. Getting up he grabbed the bin and sat next to him, rubbing soothing circles on his back, unable to sit back anymore.

"He put the Cruciatus curse on me again, then he stopped, taking a 'break,' he called it. He asked me if I wanted him to do it again, but I didn't answer. He got angry and shouted 'ANSWER ME,' but I refused. He tried to use the Imperius curse on me," Harry said, his voice suddenly brimming with satisfaction. "But I fought him off."

Severus' eyes widened: Harry had fought the Imperius curse off? When the Dark Lord had cast the spell? Merlin's balls, the boy was already stronger than the Dark Lord? Merlin, he didn't know what to think.

"I yelled 'I WON'T,' and he said, ‘You won't say no;’ then he went on about how obedience is a virtue, and he wanted to teach me that before I died. He said perhaps another dose of pain might help… then I ran," Harry said, embarrassment deep in his voice. "I made things worse for myself. He shouted that we weren't playing hiding seek, and they laughed again." Harry sighed wearily. "He went on about me being sick of the duel and did I want him to end it now."

Severus continued to rub soothing circles on the teenager's back as he continued his tale.

"He said I should come out, and that he'd make it painless, not that he knew, he said, since he'd never died," Harry continued his tale. "His voice was getting nearer; I didn't want to die like a coward…"

Severus tightened his hold on the teenager; the only calming fact was, he knew Harry had survived.

"I stood up and I shouted the only spell I knew that could help," Harry laughed without any humour in his voice, "the disarming spell, of all things, just as he yelled the killing curse… next thing I knew… the spells met in mid air… our wands were connected by a piece of thin light and we began being lifted from the ground, encased in a web of golden light. He was yelling for them to do nothing. Something inside of me… told me not to break the connection," Harry said.

"What does that mean?" Severus asked, puzzled.

"Brother wands: we can't harm one another… or rather our wands won't let us hurt one another. Anyway, there was like pure energy in the middle; the more I put power into my wand, the closer it went to Voldemort, but he pushed back… eventually, though, I got it to his wand… Then ghosts started coming out… it was like Priori Incantatem, but ghosts started coming out instead of spells. Cedric came out; he told me to hold on, and then Frank came out… the Muggle I saw him kill earlier that summer. He muttered something about him being a real wizard then, and how he killed him... he told me to fight him," Harry said quietly. "Then Bertha came out; she yelled that I wasn't to let go, and not to let him get me. Then my father came out, he said my mum was coming, that she wanted to see me, that it would be all right, and I was to hold on." He was choking now, tears running freely down his face.

Severus himself had to stop the tears from coming; he almost wished he'd gone back straight away that night… to see Lily just one more time.

"She began whispering to me, so that neither he nor the Death Eaters could hear. She said when the connection was broken, they would only linger for a few more minutes. She said she'd give me time… that I must get back to the Portkey, that it would return me to Hogwarts. She then asked me if I understood," Harry said, the tears running rivulets down his face. "I told her I understood. Then Cedric begged me to take his body back, and then my dad told me to break the connection… to break it now."

Severus bit his lip, the temptation to ask Harry to let him see the memory was very strong.

"For a moment there, I didn't think I had the strength the break the connection, but I yanked at it, and finally it broke. Voldemort was yelling at them to stun me, as he was surrounded by the people he had killed. They were all trying to hit me, but I ran, dodging between headstones to get away. I used some spells as I ran, then he yelled for them to move aside, that he'd kill me. I leaped at Cedric's body, summoned the cup; the last thing I saw and heard before I returned to Hogwarts was his face contorting in fury and his actual shriek," Harry said. "If that wasn't enough, I got dragged up to Moody's office and realized my teacher was an impostor and a Death Eater. Worse still, I was dragged up to Dumbledore's office and forced to tell him everything that had happened ― every detail; then and only then was I allowed to go to the hospital wing," Harry murmured. "It happened every year, only you have ever cared more about my wellbeing. I expected you to ask about everything that had happened in my vision. I thought we'd spend an hour there, wasting precious time. Yet you didn't… you trusted me and then let me sleep." His voice now held awe and a great deal of affection.

Severus flushed in pleasure at the words; pale pink spots began appearing on his cheeks.

"Do you wish to stay down here tonight? Or go back up to the tower?" Severus asked, realizing just how late it was.

"Here," Harry murmured, his voice hoarse from talking and all the emotion he had let out that night.

"Do not feel embarrassed by anything you did that night, Harry; you did what no one else has ever done… you actually outsmarted the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters and escaped. No one else has ever been able to do that; the fact that they underestimated you probably ensured they paid dearly for laughing at you," said Severus quietly, speaking nothing but the truth.

Harry nodded his head, a small smile on his face at the thought. The side of Harry he was seeing right now was his pure Slytherin side. A side that didn't surface often, at least not here, anyway.

"Do you want another dreamless sleeping potion? You won't be getting another," Severus warned sternly.

"I'll be okay," Harry murmured, already half asleep.

"Sleep," said Severus, realizing how exhausted Harry was. He transfigured the couch as he had done the previous night and covered him with the exact same throw. Unfortunately, sleep didn't come as easily for the other man; his thoughts kept returning to Harry's story. The feelings he had poured into it... when sleep did come, it was filled with nightmares of Harry and the Dark Lord duelling. Wakening up gasping in fright, he murmured about getting Harry a second wand, that he'd be damned if he'd let Harry die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to Jordre and Jake! :)


	32. Chapter 32

A New Place To Stay  
Chapter 32   
Christmas Is Upon Us, and Bad News 

 

It took two days for the book to come; thankfully nearly everyone had gone home for Christmas. With Umbridge there, it was no surprise that everyone had chosen to go home. Fred and George had become everyone's heroes at the beginning of the year; the other students were convinced that they were the ones pranking Umbridge. As the year continued and Fred and George continued to be awed, surprised, and deeply impressed, the students finally realized that they truly weren't responsible for what was happening to Umbridge. Fred and George were desperate to know who it was; they asked everyone, but they never found out. Harry hastily finished his breakfast, thankful that it was the holidays: he wanted to read his new book. Once that was done, he picked up his parcel and practically ran out of the hall without looking back.

Harry curled himself up on the Gryffindor common room plush couch, and he opened the cover and began reading. It took a while to get used to seeing the underlying Parselscript. It was like Parseltongue wasn't his gift, and it wasn't supposed to be his, hence he shouldn't be reading it. It made Harry's mind drift back to what Dumbledore had said in his second year. Harry paled dramatically, and then flushed red in anger as fury overtook him. Dumbledore had told him he'd received some of Voldemort's powers that night... had Dumbledore known even then that he was a Horcrux? That thought made him queasy, but didn't surprise him. If it was true, he was such a fool; why had he never thought deeper about anything? Why had he trusted Dumbledore? Harry shook his head. He didn't want to think about this; maybe he could talk to Sev about it later.

Harry's magical strand for Severus pulsed red and indigo; the colours began intertwining together before it went still once more.

The further he got into the book, the more interested he became, and he knew that this would be something Severus would love. It had spells, knowledge, history, and best of all, potions in it. Harry's eyes widened in shock; sitting up he stared at the words in surprise. A potion that would allow the drinker to understand Parseltongue, invented by Sezar Slytherin, a descendant of Salazar Slytherin; he'd been the first one in the family to end up without the gift... wow, this was big. Severus was totally going to love it. His eyes roamed over the ingredients, and everything seemed available in this time. Crushed basilisk egg shells? What kind of basilisk egg helped someone speak Parseltongue? And who was he to argue? Nothing in it seemed harmful. Severus would know anyway, and it wasn't like he could brew it, not yet anyway; it required two days to brew and an extra day to sit before it was allowed to be consumed.

He closed the book gently, very aware of how delicate it was. The Goblins had known as well; it had been well wrapped: cloth, bubble wrap, then, of course, about five sheets of brown paper to protect it. He slid it into his backpack; he didn't want others to see it ― especially not a teacher or, Merlin forbid, Dumbledore. Excitement was thrumming through him; this could turn out to be the perfect Christmas gift. Too bad he couldn't brew that potion on his own and then present it to Severus. Oh, no; he had to wait until his snake, or rather basilisk, hatched. Harry almost pouted petulantly, something he couldn't remember doing before in his life, which got him thinking about all the times he'd been truly happy. It wasn't often: the Sorting feast, finally finding friends, his first broomstick―although his acceptance onto the Quidditch team was overshadowed by the fact that if he had been “normal,” he'd never have gotten on. Deep down he knew that, and it tarnished his accomplishments. It had been his first time on a broom; there were purebloods in his classes who were bound to be better than he, weren't there? Then finding his godfather, the chance to get away from the Dursleys―his hopes dashed that very same night. Harry was saddened that he couldn't think of anything else… was his life so bad that he couldn't think of all the times he'd been truly happy? Oh, when he got his Firebolt! That had been a good day, yet it, too, was overshadowed by the fact it had been taken from him.

Looking at his watch, he was surprised to see it was past lunchtime. Swinging his bag over his shoulder, he bound up the stairs to get his cloak, then began his trek down to the dungeons. He always used his cloak to go to the dungeons; he couldn't afford to be seen by going down without it. There were far too many portraits that reported to Dumbledore for that. He hadn't known about that, though; Severus had told him. Obviously Severus knew a lot more about Dumbledore, more than he could ever imagine. It was a good job Severus was indeed their spy, or Dumbledore would have been dead a long time ago. The information Severus had accumulated on him and the light side was probably immense.

Harry slid into the classroom, straight through to the office, and by-passed that as well to enter Severus' private quarters. It was so odd; having somewhere he could go to have time to himself, at Hogwarts. There weren't many places where he could go and truly be alone. It was a school filled with hundreds of students, so it came as no surprise. Today it was quiet, though; people were home for Christmas. It made Harry long for Prince Manor. It wasn't his, he knew that, but it didn't stop him from wishing. His life had been nothing but wishes for so long. Wishing to be rescued from the Dursleys ―mostly by parents that were dead. Wishing Voldemort didn't exist, wishing Sirius were free, wishing and hoping Hogwarts didn't get closed, wishing Snake/Babymort would drown. Wishing he wouldn't have to return to the Dursleys that summer, especially after what had happened, with Dudley's swollen tongue and all. He knew what Vernon would have done if he'd gotten his hands on him; he doubted he'd have seen the light of day... until he had to go back to Hogwarts. Prince Manor, despite its rocky, terrifying start, had been the best thing that had happened to him in years. Now he had someone to talk to, someone that cared about him, and not as a weapon or something to get information from.

Harry got the fright of his life when he sat down: the egg was cracked right down the middle and was hissing... he could understand it! Quickly putting his bag on the couch he knelt down on the rug next to the fireplace and watched. He still hadn't found any information about basilisks; not much was known about them. Which really shouldn't come as a surprise; after all, they did kill you as fast as look at you.

\---------

Severus stalked through the corridors like a bat out of hell; Umbridge was stuck in the Hospital wing with Dragon pox. A case that, weirdly enough, the regular potion wouldn't cure. Poppy was going out of her mind; she just didn't know what to do! Something or someone was causing harm to Umbridge, and she couldn't heal her. She was considering sending the witch to St. Mungo's... there wasn't anything else she could do. Severus chuckled darkly just thinking about it; she really should have known better than to mess with his son. If only it were that easy killing the Dark Lord, he'd do it in a heartbeat. "Cockroach clusters," he snapped, scowling at the gargoyle. He'd not seen Harry since breakfast; he was rather worried about the boy. It wasn't often he missed meals; he'd missed too many in his short life to want to miss more. Plus Harry's appetite had increased a lot; he could remember when Harry barely ate the small amount of food on his plate. Now he was eating a full man's meal, and he was proud of him. Despite his mood, he didn't make a sound as he walked up the stairs and into Dumbledore's office. Being a spy was all about being sneaky and quiet, something he'd perfected over the years.

"Ah, Severus, come in my boy," Dumbledore invited, beaming brightly at Severus, despite his spy's scowling demeanour.

"You wanted to see me?" questioned Severus, sitting down, his arms crossing over his chest. He stared at Dumbledore broodingly; nothing good ever came of being called up to his office. He wasn't teaching, so he wanted to spend this time trying to create a potion to help his son. He needed to find a way to destroy the Horcrux in Harry without harming him in the process. It wasn't as if he could do it during the summer, because the Dark Lord called him constantly. It was as though he was making up for lost time, being unable to call him during the school year—although it was mostly potion-brewing the Dark Lord had him doing.

Dumbledore put his hands together and brought his fingers to his mouth in a rare show of worry. He wasn't sure how well this was going to go over with his spy; all rational thought left him when he brought up Harry. He desperately needed this done, and he was hoping Severus would agree without theatrics. He wasn't about to tell Harry himself either―he'd rather not put up with two dramatic boys right now ― not with everything else that was going on. For two men, they were both rather alike, especially in their hatred for one another. Unfortunately, the lessons he was about to undertake weren't going to bring them closer. In fact it would probably make their hatred for each other stronger.

Severus narrowed his eyes at Dumbledore's silence. He knew immediately he was going to be asked something he really wasn't going to like. A frown marred his pale face, he was getting rather impatient, and he hoped the old fool would spit it out, before he snapped.

"I believe there's a connection between Harry and Voldemort," Dumbledore said, ignoring Severus' flinch when the name was spoken.

Severus arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow in surprise. "What makes you think that?" he snorted. A connection? Really? thought Severus sardonically. Dumbledore had no idea. Or maybe he did and just wasn't sharing. His nostrils flared at that thought; he really did need to work on the potion... get that connection and Horcrux destroyed.

"I need Harry to learn Occlumency," Dumbledore stated, staring intently at Severus, ignoring his question.

Severus' face became stoic and filled with dread, he hated when Dumbledore brushed off his questions. He should be used to it; Dumbledore never told him anything he didn't want to. Sometimes the niggling thought that Dumbledore didn't truly trust him went through his mind. It didn't matter at the end of the day; he did what he had to, nothing more.

"What does that have to do with me?" Severus coldly asked.

"I cannot teach Harry; if there is a connection, it would be a bad idea to allow it… I have information I cannot allow Harry to know. Through Harry, Voldemort might know; if what I suspect is true, that information cannot get into his hands," Dumbledore stated firmly.

Severus bit the inside of his cheek, he hated when Dumbledore used HIS name. The Mark burned brutally every time he was mentioned. Harry even had the decency to avoid using his name in his presence. He realized it was time for him to act his part, and play it he did. "NO," Severus said immediately, his eyes narrowed with displeasure. "I refuse."

"Severus… you must," Dumbledore insisted, his twinkle nowhere to be seen.

"I will not teach that spoiled brat anything, Headmaster, do it yourself!" Severus said harshly, standing up and putting his foot down.

"Severus… I cannot teach him; you have to do it... there is no one else!" Dumbledore said persuasively.

"Headmaster, you ask too much from me!" Severus said bitterly.

"I wouldn't ask unless I thought it was important, Severus," Dumbledore said, looking regretful.

"I cannot do this," Severus said weakly, looking as though his resolve was weakening.

"Harry knows you are a spy, Severus; if he doesn't learn to close his mind, Voldemort might find out," Dumbledore said, using the last card up his sleeve, one that he was sure would work. There was nothing more important to Severus than keeping his spying activities safe. At least that's what he thought, anyway.

Severus was glad he had already taught Harry Occlumency, and better still that he'd gotten to know the child. Otherwise this year would have been an added hell for Harry. "You asked me to give up my summer for the brat, now this?" Severus growled, looking extremely irritated and displeased.

"We all must do things in this war that are distasteful," Dumbledore said, his voice sounding sad and depressed.

Severus paused, feeling very alarmed with Dumbledore's voice... he sounded really hollow. If there was ever a time he wanted to know what Dumbledore was thinking, it would have been right now. Considering they were talking about Harry… it made him extremely worried. Just what did Dumbledore have up his sleeve? Dread coursed through him… he had a feeling Dumbledore knew. Knew what Harry had inside of him. No, surely not? Dumbledore wouldn't risk Harry, not after everything. If that was the case, that meant it went against the Vow he had taken to protect him. It made him extremely defensive; he needed to get out of here― he needed to think. "Fine, I'll do it!" he snarled. "If that is all, I'd like to leave," he sounded extremely pissed off.

"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore said, relieved.

Severus didn't bother replying; he just stormed out of Dumbledore's office without making a sound. He might look very angry, but inside he was anxious and worried. He'd never heard Dumbledore sound so forlorn before, and it really didn't bode well for him. Or Harry, for that matter.

=======

Severus stalked into his quarters to find Harry sitting on the floor; surprise registered on his face― what on earth was Harry doing down there? He walked further in and registered the snake tongue rolling off Harry's mouth. Taking a look at the egg, he noticed it had almost hatched; the snake really was alive then. The basilisk might be small now, but it wouldn't remain that way. He would have to explain that to Harry, because there was no way he could keep it. He knew how quickly Harry grew attached to things, and this wouldn't be an exception.

"You do know you cannot keep the basilisk, don't you?" Severus quietly said, standing beside and above Harry.

Harry's green eyes were staring up at him, his smile gone, a shadow of sadness in his eyes. "I know, but maybe it can stay at Hogwarts, protect the students," Harry suggested quietly.

"Perhaps," said Severus, not agreeing… or disagreeing, for that matter.

"We need to keep the egg shells," Harry said, looking back at his egg.

Severus frowned, "Why is that?" he asked dryly.

"The book I got, it's in Parselscript, and there's a potion in there that will let you understand Parseltongue; you won't be able to speak it, though. The Wizard that created it was disappointed by that," Harry explained.

Both Severus' eyebrows rose in shocked surprise; he wasn't sure what to think about that statement at all.

"But you'll be able to read the book too; there's lots of Potions and spells in it, and history written by the Slytherin descendants," Harry said. "It's sort of a Christmas present." Harry watched as an odd look came to Severus' eyes; if he wasn't mistaken, he'd think it was awe. He wondered to himself if that had been the same look in his eyes his first Christmas at Hogwarts. He was pretty sure he’d had the same look on his face that Ron had when he'd gasped out loud and said, 'I've got presents?'; he remembered how it felt, too.

"Why aren't you brewing it?" Severus questioned, realizing to himself that his voice was rather hoarse.

"I'm not that good… the potion looks very complicated and takes days to brew," Harry said, unashamed. He was nowhere near Severus' level of genius, especially when it came to potions. He couldn't imagine being able to invent or experiment with them.

"Well, you will have to write down the instructions properly and in English," Severus said, moving himself from beside the fire and sitting down. His earlier anger was forgotten; his concern wasn't, but he pushed it aside; he didn't want to brood while Harry was here. He was feeling rather emotional right now; nobody had bought him a gift in a long time. He got useless baubles from the teachers, wine or whisky from Minerva; Dumbledore, the crazy old Wizard, got him socks and lemon drops. The look in Harry's eyes when he'd mentioned it had blown him away. Now excitement was thrumming through him at the thought of brewing a nice, complicated potion.

"Well, let's see if I can do it," Harry said, moving away from his basilisk, which had stopped trying to crack its way out of the egg. He moved to the couch and took the book from his bag, and gently laid it on the table. Then he began flipping through the pages until he found the potion he was talking about. A piece of parchment and a quill dipped in ink were handed to him. "You'll need to tell me if I'm writing in English."

Harry began writing and almost immediately: "Parselscript," Severus said, sounding amused. "Or rather, Parselscript and English," he amended firmly.

"That's it; I need to read it, then you speak to me and I should reply in English," Harry said. "If not, I'll end up keeping on writing in Parselscript."

So that's what they did, Harry would read one line of the Potions instructions, then Severus would ask him, “What does it say?” and Harry would reply in English. Triumph filled both of them: they'd found a way; between them both they always did. It took them an hour to get it done, but they did it.

"So will it do what it says?" Harry cautiously asked.

"It should," Severus smirked wryly. His onyx eyes were twinkling madly as he looked through the potion he'd written.

"We’ll have to wait until the basilisk hatches, though," Harry pointed out.

"We will," Severus simply agreed; this might just be the best gift he'd ever received.

"I hope you like it," Harry said quietly.

Severus looked at Harry; he sounded very unsure of himself. "I like it very much, Harry; thank you," he told him. “Thank you” were words that did not come easy to Severus, or rather at all. He knew Harry deserved to hear them, and so he reassured him in the only way he could.

Harry beamed at him as if he were the best person in the world.

"I have just come back from Dumbledore's office," Severus said smoothly, changing the subject. There was just too much emotion in the room right now, too much he wasn't used to, and this was how he dealt with it.

"Oh?" Harry quietly said, his good mood vanishing like a boat in the Bermuda Triangle. Severus didn't usually tell him things, unless he planned on discussing it.

"He wants me to teach you Occlumency," Severus said, an amused smirk twitching at his lips.

"Well, I'd be pretty pissed off right now if you had told me that last year," Harry said quietly. "Why you though? Why does Dumbledore want me to learn it?"

"The connection you have with the Dark Lord; he knows that much, I can guarantee," Severus said, a hard look in his eyes. "Dumbledore has information in his head, information he cannot risk you accidentally seeing."

"Like what?" Harry frowned.

"The Prophecy, his plans... who knows but the old fool?" Severus grimly sneered; his sneer, of course, was more geared towards the old fool who liked to think himself an omnipotent god.

"Speaking of that… would you take me to the Ministry?" Harry hesitantly asked.

"Excuse me?" Severus said in surprise.

"Would you take me?" Harry asked quietly. "I want to get the prophecy; I don't want anyone else getting hurt because of it. Arthur is a good man, he didn't deserve what happened. If nobody is there to protect it... nobody can get hurt because of it. Who knows who'll be protecting it when he finally shows up to get it? It's only a matter of time before it happens!"

"True," Severus mused, deep in thought; was it worth the risk? Did he even want to know the entire contents of the prophecy? Did he want his son to know? Would it make things worse, knowing it all, or make it better? Bigger question: if he said no, what would Harry do? Try to retrieve it himself? Most likely. If Harry thought it was for the best, he would find a way to do it. If he went, at least he could protect him and keep him safe.

"Very well, we shall go over Christmas," Severus said. He was taking Harry to get a new wand; he wasn't having his son walking around with a wand that wouldn't and couldn't protect him from Voldemort. That was just asking for a death sentence. So he had gotten in touch with a wandmaker he knew, that would keep quiet about it. Master Gregorovitch was the wandmaker; his wands were more powerful than Ollivander's. He was coming to England, staying in the Leaky Cauldron; Severus had promised the man some basilisk parts to entice him to come. It had worked like a charm, and Harry would get a powerful wand in the process. After that, they'd take a trip to the Ministry and get the bloody damn Prophecy that the boy wanted. Harry could be such a Gryffindor sometimes, but he knew part of it was because Harry wanted the information that was being kept from him. That was due to his Slytherin side, that Dumbledore hadn't been able to completely destroy. He'd tried to turn Harry into the epitome of a Gryffindor; thanks to Severus’ influence, the Slytherin side was surfacing more and more often. Unfortunately, Harry wouldn't ever be rid of his Gryffindor tendencies; they'd been driven in too deeply by Dumbledore for the past four years.

"Thanks," Harry grinned, but as suddenly as he was grinning, he groaned, doubling over, his head bursting in agony. Severus grabbed him, stopping him from hitting his head on the floor. As quickly as it started, it stopped; Harry lay panting on the couch.

"Are you okay? Do you need a pain reliever?" Severus asked, eyeing Harry in concern.

Harry shook his head. "He's happy, very happy; something's happened… I've never felt him like that before. He's always full of hate and anger… whatever it is, it can't be good," Harry said, breathing out in relief that the presence was gone.

"Sit up, look at me," demanded Severus, his wand out. Harry did as he was told, realizing it wasn't a request. "Ready?" he said a few seconds later; without Harry’s even nodding Severus was in his head. Bypassing his memories, he got to the core of Harry's magic. He noticed that there weren't as many magical strands anymore; two or three were missing. Granger and Weasley, perhaps? If so, who was the third one? He had no idea; as it was, the magical strands were unreadable. He didn't know the missing strand was Harry's godfather. If he had, he would have felt smug, and he wouldn't have felt bad at about it at all. Severus' hatred of Black was rooted very deeply and would never leave. Only someone who had been in Severus' shoes would understand. He had been deeply tormented by Black since he’d been eleven years old, for the simple fact that he'd told Lily he hoped she'd be in Slytherin beside him.

He restarted the progress of boxing up the Horcrux that was once more attached to Harry's magical core. He used a lot more magic than he had the last time, hoping it would contain it a lot longer— maybe, this time, permanently. He had a feeling that it would be for naught, but the longer the better. Once it was done, he eased out of Harry's mind, not paying any attention to his memories. When he came back to himself, he was sweating and breathless; Harry was the same. "All right?" Severus said.

"I'm fine," Harry rasped; it wasn't a nice feeling, someone invading his mind like that.

"Good," Severus said. "I do wonder why the Dark Lord was happy," he mused, getting up and going back to his favourite seat. He was mostly speaking to himself, and if he wasn't so tired he wouldn't have been saying things like that in front of Harry.

"Whatever it is, it can't be good," Harry simply said.

"We will be sure to find out," Severus said darkly, "sooner or later."

They'd be finding out the very next morning.

"Sleep," Severus simply said. That was exactly what he himself was going to do. He transfigured his couch into a bed once more, then he went to his own, tired beyond words. He had a feeling it was going to be one long day tomorrow; he had no idea just how right he was.

Azkaban had been broken into; the most notorious of the Death Eaters were back on the streets of the United Kingdom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to Jake and Jordre for taking the time to edit this :)


	33. Chapter 33

A New Place To Stay  
Chapter 33  
Snakes Hatching and Mass Breakouts 

 

"Severus, have you spoken to Harry yet?" Dumbledore queried, his eyes twinkling brightly. There were only McGonagall, Severus, and Dumbledore in the room right now. They'd just had a six o'clock morning staff meeting, which had gone a lot better than previous ones. Everyone seemed rather jubilant right now, and it wasn't just because it was Christmas time. Minerva perked up, looking at both men curiously; what was going on? Why would Severus have to speak to her Gryffindor?

"No," Severus sneered, his lip curled in distain.

"Why would Severus need to speak to my student?" McGonagall asked indignantly, her eyes narrowed unpleasantly. She didn't speak to Severus' students, and she didn't like the thought of Severus speaking to her Gryffindors.

Severus just smirked at her, gloating and goading her.

"Albus!" she said grimly, demanding answers, her hands firmly planted on her hips, her lips pursed in agitation.

"I'll speak to you about it later, Minerva; not here," Albus warned, staring around; he did not trust many places, or rather didn't trust anywhere other than his office. "Severus, you need to start it as soon as possible, it's important― you know this."

"Very well," Severus said sharply as if he couldn't be bothered arguing with the Headmaster anymore.

"Excellent," Dumbledore beamed, once more happy at getting his own way.

"Poppy has sent Umbridge to St. Mungo's," Minerva said.

"What?" asked Severus in surprise, she'd spoken of doing it but he hadn't actually expected her to... at least not yet. He had to stop himself from pouting; well, at least Dobby would still be able to give her the potion.

"Yes; Albus, you need to decide if you want to hire a Defence instructor; we cannot keep temporarily taking the classes anymore. Not now that it is getting so close to time for the students to take their O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s," Minerva stated sharply.

"I cannot possibly find someone so close to the end of the year," Dumbledore immediately protested.

"But it's all right for us to stretch ourselves so thin? There aren't enough teachers to begin with, without having us helping out with a core class so necessary to succeeding in the wizarding world," Severus said sharply, not that he was really complaining. He liked teaching Defence, but with N.E.W.T.s coming up, he had Potions to teach to advanced students. Complicated potions, by his students' standards anyway, and he couldn't afford distractions.

Minerva and Severus were in agreement as she nodded in understanding and in concurrence with the statement. Albus Dumbledore truly was expecting too much of them; it didn't help that there weren't enough teachers in the building for the four hundred and some-odd students studying at Hogwarts.

"We shall just have to cope," Dumbledore simply said.

\-------

Harry came down to the Great Hall; it was so great having the dorm to himself. No Ron snoring or talking in his sleep; no Dean or Seamus glaring at him behind his back. No sharing the shower; better still, not having to wait in line. He was sitting at the Gryffindor table, which was basically empty, save for the few students who also had stayed. The same could be said for the other three tables: Slytherin, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw.

He had just finished his breakfast when the newspaper was delivered. It was a good job he'd finished, because staring back at him were eight wizards and a witch who had escaped Azkaban. He wasn't one to judge a person by his looks... well, actually that wasn't true― he had judged people before. Looking at them, though, he could just see the evilness pouring off them from their Azkaban pictures. He didn't need to read on to know they were Death Eaters. He was right: they'd all escaped Azkaban. As he read further, he choked on his laughter, ignoring the looks the teachers gave him. They were blaming Sirius Black for the mass break-out! Harry bit his lip; this must mean the Azkaban guards, and Dementors, were on HIS side already. It was bad enough the Ministry had sent Dementors after him; what would Voldemort do with this kind of power? Worry and apprehension began thrumming through him. It seemed as if the war had well and truly started. So, Dementors... did that mean he already had the giants on his side too? This was what happened when the bloody Ministry banished people for being different. Giants, trolls, werewolves, Dementors... probably vampires and every other “Dark creature” in the world. Or rather, what the Ministry had deemed “Dark creatures.” This was their fault; if they didn't bloody banish people, Voldemort wouldn't be able to get so many followers.

Pushing his plate away, feeling decidedly sick, he left the hall and went to the library. He remained squirreled away in there for the rest of the day, only leaving for lunch and dinner. He read every book he could get his hands on; nothing as fascinating as in the Library at Prince Manor, but it would do. There was a war coming, and he was determined to study and live, when all was said and done.

\----------

It was fortuitous that the basilisk hatched three days before Christmas. This meant that the potion for Severus would be ready on Christmas day, as Harry had wanted.

"Hello," Harry hissed hesitantly with his eyes closed, wary of opening them.

"Hello, Master," the snake hissed, sniffing the air curiously, wondering at her new home.

"Can I look at you?" Harry asked, wondering if that was a stupid question. The basilisk was a baby; what information could it know? But he had to ask. He hadn't been able to find any information about basilisks. Salazar Slytherin had got one; surely he had been able to find a way to look at her.

"Of course, Master… my gaze is only lethal to those I wish it to be," the Basilisk hissed almost gloatingly; no wonder it was the emblem of Slytherin. It sounded like a few Slytherins he could name... and himself.

"Well, you can keep that gaze to yourself unless someone's hurting you, understand?" Harry told the little snake, his voice full of determination.

"Yes Master," the Basilisk hissed in acquiescence.

"Don't call me Master, my name is Harry…" Harry ordered. "Do you have a name?" he asked, feeling all kinds of stupid.

"She never named me…" the snake hissed.

Harry gulped guiltily; well, that was his fault really, but at the time, it had been kill or be killed. "Well, I'll name you then," Harry hissed back decisively. "Wait― are you male or female?"

"Male," hissed the Snake; it sounded as though it was laughing at him.

"Okay, Balthazar it is, Zar for short; how about it?" hissed Harry. If he had been a female, he'd have called her Athena, but she was a he, so that's what he'd decided on.

"I like it," the snake hissed happily, slithering up his arm. It was so small and delicate, Harry could hardly believe it; he knew what the snake was going to look like one day.

"These are Severus Snape's private rooms; you mustn't leave here. We are in a school," Harry explained as the snake slid off his arm and began investigating his surroundings, its tongue out flicking around the room... smelling everything.

Harry moved forward, collecting the egg shells, a sly grin appearing on his face. Severus would be able to understand the snake soon; too bad he wouldn't be able to talk to it. Then again, Severus was a genius at potions. If anyone could tweak the potion to make it work so he'd be able actually to speak the snake language, it would be Sev. He'd done wonders with the Wolfsbane Potion; Harry had read up on the original and seen how Severus had improved it.

"What are you up to?" Severus asked, surprising the daylights out of Harry, who jumped and twisted around, his heart beating a hundred times faster than normal.

"Zar hatched!" Harry grinned, showing him the Basilisk egg shells in his hands.

"Zar?" Severus asked curiously, his lips twitching as he fought the urge to smirk or smile, maybe, who knew.

"Balthazar," Harry elaborated wickedly.

"I see," Severus said, impressed.

"Here," Harry grinned wider, handing the shell shards over.

Severus' eyes began twinkling, a twinkle that put Dumbledore's to shame. Nothing ignited Severus' passion more than potions could. He practically grabbed them out of Harry's hands and disappeared into his private potions lab. If one looked hard enough, he’d have probably seen a vapour trail.

Harry didn't see him again the rest of the time he was down there, talking to his snake. Unfortunately, he had to return to his dorm; he couldn't stay down in Severus' quarters every night. The three times he'd done it were special circumstances; Severus was adamant on that account. So ten minutes until curfew, he donned his invisibility cloak, then, map in hand, he went back to the Gryffindor common room. He left the book in Severus' quarters; he didn't want anyone finding it. Plus, technically, it was his once he had the ability to read Parselscript, Harry mused― he'd probably never see it again. Until he was ready, anyway. A grin erupted on his face. He'd done the right thing; he'd gotten something really good for Severus. He was rather proud of himself, and it had only cost ten Galleons.

As he ambled his way towards Gryffindor common room, he wondered if he should get something for Sirius. As angry as he was at him for lying and not being there for him, he was, at the end of the day, his godfather. He owed him that much, surely? He just wasn't sure right now. Even if he did, what the hell would he get him? He didn't know his godfather well enough. It was a sobering thought: he knew a man he had hated just a few months ago better than his own godfather. It wasn't hard to do; Sirius had never really been there for him. Instead he just did what Dumbledore had told him to, and then reported everything he told his godfather in confidence right back to Dumbledore. That thought renewed the rage inside him; like hell he'd get Sirius anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To Jake and Jordre for editing - Thank you so much guys!


	34. Chapter 34

A New Place To Stay  
Chapter 34  
Christmas Day And New Adventures 

 

Severus had brewed the Potion; he was now able to understand the gift that was Parseltongue. So many people thought it was a bad thing, yet so many people wished they had such a gift. Many people had pets that they wished they could understand, including snakes. Zar had taken to Severus; he was constantly wrapped around him when Harry wasn't there, and getting bigger by the day. He's been able to sit in the palm of Harry's hand when he’d hatched; now he was almost twice the size of it... in just three days. It was now Christmas morning, and Harry was currently making his way down to Severus' quarters. They were leaving the school grounds today, so Harry had his map and cloak with him. Severus had asked him a few questions about the map, wondering if it would show everyone on it, while they were away from the school. Harry of course didn't know, not being able to use magic outside of the school.

"Merry Christmas," Harry sleepily murmured, making his way through the door, wanting to groan at how awake Severus seemed. This was a man who'd had barely any sleep in three days either. He'd been too busy brewing a potion, and he'd had to answer a summoning from Voldemort as well. It was like he had a caffeine IV hidden somewhere.

"You too; are you ready to go? It's going to be a long day," Severus wryly said. It was just six o'clock in the morning; he had to get things done quickly, before anyone noticed both of them missing.

"As I'll ever be… are you ever going to tell me where we’re going?" Harry asked, a note of petulant pleading in his voice. Harry had never really been given a “surprise” before. Not this kind, anyway, and he was strangely looking forward to it.

"No." Severus smirked in satisfaction; Harry had been annoying him for three days, trying to get information. He hadn't succeeded in breaking or sneaking the information out of him. Each day his pout got just a little bigger. He'd never seen Harry like that; it was a curious… thing. Pouting playfully, being a child... something Harry had never been able to do before. Even when he wanted to roll his eyes and snap, he refrained from doing so. His son had never had the chance to be a child, so he was going to let him be one for now. Hopefully, though, Harry would know when to stop; considering how Slytherin he was, he had a feeling that wouldn't be a problem.

"Fine," Harry said seriously, realizing he was pouting yet again. He'd been doing it on and off since he'd begun de-stressing. Telling Severus everything about his home life and of course his school life had made him feel better about himself. If that was the case, why had nobody helped him, or rather, why hadn't Dumbledore brought someone in to help him? A psychologist... was there even such a thing in the wizarding world? There had to be; even wizards and witches had need of mental help, right?

"You had something to eat?" Severus asked sharply. His mind drifted back to the sorry sight the child had been the night he'd healed his injuries. He'd been so skinny, each rib nearly poking through his skin. He didn't want to risk Harry going back to that, so he ensured Harry ate when he was supposed to. He'd given Harry hell for missing lunch four days ago. Although he couldn't blame him; learning the Death Eaters had been broken out had thrown Harry into an obsession. He was more determined than ever to learn everything he could to protect himself. It was a good thing, but hopefully this outing today would let him relax for the day.

"No, not yet; I came straight here," Harry replied. Plus breakfast wasn't being served yet. Severus always insisted he eat; he really didn't understand it.

"We can get it at the Leaky Cauldron. Now stand still; I'm going to Glamour you," Severus abruptly said. Moving forward, he waved his wand over Harry until he was satisfied and nodded. There, nobody could possibly recognize Harry now. Once that was done, he cast one over himself.

"Can I come?" Zar hissed, slithering forward.

Harry looked at Severus curiously, asking if the basilisk could come without saying anything.

"Go on, then," Severus grumbled; at least with the snake, no one in their right mind would accuse him of being Harry Potter, their precious Boy-Who-Lived. The snake, to their surprise, was beginning to understand English, because without waiting for a reply, Zar began hissing in contentment as soon as Severus spoke. "Hm…" was all Severus said, watching the little snake wrap itself around Harry under his cloak, disappearing from sight.

"Can you see him?" Harry asked curiously, his voice sounding different. Severus truly did think of everything.

"No, and now let's go, I do not do late," Severus sharply admonished. He'd never been late for a meeting, and he wasn't about to start now. Although he didn't sound so threatening with his different voice; in fact, Harry was forced to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing.

"Okay," Harry said, still wondering where they were going.

The invisibility cloak was thrown over both of them, and with a very awkward gait, they began their trek from the building. Once they got past the wards, Severus put his hand on Harry and Apparated them out of there. As soon as they regained their footing, he removed the cloak and quickly put it in one of the many expanded pockets of his cloak. He routinely carried a lot around with him, mostly things dealing with potions and their ingredients. "Let's go," he said, opening the door and entering the pub. It was its usual almost grimy self. It wasn’t dirty, but it looked it. Its appearance stopped many Muggles from coming in, preferring to go elsewhere. It was mostly wizards and witches that used it. That wasn't to say Muggles didn't come in; they did... with their families, sisters, brothers, mothers, lovers, fathers, etc…one of them obviously had to be magical. Severus strolled in confidently; he looked around and noticed nobody was there yet. It was early still, so that didn't surprise him.

"Is Master Gregorovitch here yet?" Severus asked; this time he was red-haired and blue-eyed, and for all outward appearances looked shorter than “Severus Snape” did. He continued to stare at Tom, who jerked up in surprise to see someone there so early.

"No, sir," Tom quietly replied, curious about this new character that was in his pub; he had a child with him too. "Can I help you?"

"You can; I want to hire a private room for a few hours. Escort Master Gregorovitch up when he arrives. Also bring up two large breakfasts, including coffee, and do you have orange juice?" he asked, knowing his son preferred it.

"Yes, sir, we do, I'll bring it up; room ten is available," Tom said, happy to help. Room ten was the best, and this man seemed like a no-nonsense fellow. Strangely, he reminded him of someone; he just couldn't put his finger or wand on it.

"How much?" Severus curtly asked.

"Four Galleons please," Tom said, always liking the customers who preferred to pay upfront.

"Here," Severus said, handing over the money after removing it from his pouch, which was, of course, black.

Harry watched the transaction curiously. Four Galleons, at five pounds per galleon... which meant it was twenty pounds, for breakfast and a room? That was a lot, but of course he didn't comment on it. He wondered why they needed a room and who Gregorovitch was. He didn't like being in the dark, but he took consolation in the fact that he'd know soon. Also the fact that it wasn't a bad thing― “bad” meaning the “dark” kind of thing―also helped.

"Thank you, sir; would you like me to show you the way?" Tom asked, putting the money in the till and smiling kindly at them.

"I know it," Severus said brushing off the help. Nodding curtly, he swiftly left the public room and went up the stairs... leaving behind a perplexed man trying to figure out who he reminded him of.

"You know, I'd have known that was you in seconds… you haven't changed," Harry remarked, grinning in amusement.

"Tom doesn't know me well enough to guess," Severus said wryly, opening the door to their rented room. They entered the room and the door snapped shut behind them and locked.

"I thought breakfast was coming up?" Harry asked, sitting down on one of the couches.

"Magically, Harry," Severus sighed in amused exasperation. There was so much Harry still didn't know; he didn't know why it still surprised him, but it did. They were both thankfully distracted by the appearance of the food.

"So when's Gregorovitch coming?" Harry asked nonchalantly.

"Soon," Severus smirked in amusement, knowing what Harry was doing; he wasn't a Slytherin for nothing.

"Oh? Who is he anyway? Is he safe?" His tone of voice was still nonchalant.

"Yes, he's safe," Severus replied, hiding his amusement; really... he was older than Harry and he knew all the tricks in the book. Hell, he'd learned an entire second book more, spying; he'd honed and perfected his skills. He had to admit Harry was really good for his age, but considering everything he'd been through, it wasn't a surprise.

Harry screwed up his face; so much for finding out that way.

After that they ate their breakfast in silence, waiting for the third party.

They didn't have to wait long.

A knock sounded throughout the room.

Severus stood up, removing his glamours, and answered the door, allowing the strange wizard entrance. Whatever Harry was expecting, it wasn't this; this old man was ancient, probably older than Dumbledore—although he couldn't say for sure, but it was a safe bet regardless. Suddenly he realized who he was without anyone telling him, the niggling at the back of his mind finally coming forth. He had known he had heard the name before: it was the man who'd sold Krum his wand. He remembered Krum talking about him during the weighing of the wands. Ollivander hadn't been too happy about it; like any merchant, he preferred people buying his wands. So this was a wandmaker, and he had a funny feeling he knew why they were all here.

"Garrick, thank you for coming," Severus said curtly, once again closing and locking the door.

"I'm afraid you made it far too tempting, Severus," Gregorovitch said sarcastically; Snape had offered him basilisk parts ― some skin ― in exchange for his services. "Even for a retired old man like myself," he finished wryly.

"I am assuming you brought everything?" Severus asked, getting straight to business.

"Of course." Gregorovitch moved over to the table and put a small box on it. With a swish of his wand the box became huge, and by that Harry meant humongous. The wands weren't in separate boxes either, as at Ollivander's, but all stashed into one huge box by themselves. He probably had more wands than Ollivander had in his shop; how was he supposed to know which one was what? "Now come here, boy."

Harry winced, unnoticed by Gregorovitch, but Severus noticed.

"His name is Harry; use it," Severus said, growling lowly and dangerously.

"Of course," Gregorovitch quickly agreed, not wanting to upset Severus―he'd rather not risk losing the prospective basilisk skin.

Severus nodded curtly, then stood back, keeping an eye out.

Then it began: things shattering, wind blowing, magic acting up... no wand wanted Harry. He was simply just too powerful for them. Even Gregorovitch was getting exasperated. It got to the point that there were only a few left, and Severus was beginning to fear that they wouldn't get a wand from the wandmaker. Gregorovitch was getting worried too; he really wanted the basilisk skin; he wanted to experiment with it. Just when things were looking the bleakest for all in the room, the last wand blessedly accepted Harry, as if taking pity.

Each of them let out a relived breath at the same time.

"Pretty ironic," Gregorovitch said, speaking mostly to himself and not to the other two in the room.

Harry rolled his eyes; don't tell me he’s going to get bloody cryptic just like Ollivander, he thought. Were all wandmakers like that? Or was it just the ones he'd had the bloody “pleasure” of running into? He was beginning to think it really was a wandmaker thing. Severus, though, it seemed, didn't have Harry's patience for waiting.

"What is?" Severus snapped.

Harry couldn't help but muse it was a good thing he hadn't gone to Ollivander with him when he was eleven. He grinned inwardly. “Curious… very curious… that wand is the brother of the one that gave you that scar…” “great things, yes, terrible, but great.” Although he couldn't deny he wasn't curious himself.

"What is in your old wand?" Gregorovitch asked curiously.

"A phoenix tail feather," Harry told him after getting confirmation from Severus that he was allowed to tell.

"Very ironic indeed, this wand― twelve inch Ebony ―has a sphinx hair imbued with phoenix tears," Gregorovitch said excitedly.

"A sphinx hair?" Harry asked surprised, flashing back to the tournament, without the accompanying guilt he usually felt. Spider, he remembered fondly; they were supposed to be dark creatures, at least that's what the book said. Very unpredictable, but the one that he had seen had been nice enough.

"Imbued with phoenix tears yes," Gregorovitch said. "I've had this wand since I first became a wandmaker; it's one of the first I bought. Nobody has ever managed to produce a spark from it. Not even Germany's most powerful wizard. From what I know about the wand… it's never been sold since its original owner."

"Who was the original owner?" Severus asked curiously.

"Salazar Slytherin's son, Sezar Slytherin," Gregorovitch gloatingly said.

Harry blinked, a feeling of incredulity washing over him; it seemed the book ending up in his hands might not be a coincidence. So it was Salazar Slytherin's son who'd been born without the ability? The book he'd gotten Severus was written by the founder's son! By Merlin, that book was far more precious than he'd realized. Well worth the ten galleons he'd paid for it, or rather the fifty pounds he'd paid for it.

"What's so special about him?" Harry found himself asking.

"The fact is, not much is known about him; he was a recluse, hardly ever seen, or at least that's what the reports say. Salazar kept his son well out of the limelight; it's said, though, that Sezar wrote books, but it's never been confirmed," Gregorovitch related.

Oh, he'd written books, all right, in Parselscript, after he'd invented the potion to allow him to read and understand it, then write about it. Harry couldn't believe it; what were the odds that he'd buy a book by Sezar Slytherin, then not a week later end up with the man's wand?

"It's also said he was never defeated in battle; he defended his family name with honour. Especially after Salazar left and the rumours started. Everyone tried to 'Put the Slytherin name in its place,' as it were. Which means he fought a lot to maintain his family's honour. So I think it's safe to say he was very, very powerful," Gregorovitch said, imparting more information to them. "Probably more powerful than his father before him."

Harry looked down at the wand, awed; this had at one point belonged in the Slytherin family. He'd never wondered where his wand came from before; did it belong to someone before him? Did Fawkes only ever belong to Dumbledore? Or was it someone else's before him? When were the feathers donated? Well, it had to be at least sixty years ago or so, since Riddle got his when he was eleven… no, it would have been forty years ago then. He'd never wondered what happens to the wands after the wizards died.

"Here," Severus said, handing over the basilisk skin in payment for the wand. "Let's go," he said to Harry.

Harry nodded and put his new wand in his pocket before murmuring a distracted “thank you” to the wandmaker and then leaving with Severus.

"We'd best get you a wand holster," Severus said, sounding almost as distracted as Harry had been.

"Why?" Harry asked, running to keep up with the newly re-Glamoured Severus.

"We wouldn't want anyone else to find out about your new wand," Severus said, unable to keep the sarcasm out his voice.

"All-righty, then," Harry said. Severus was obviously in a mood; he decided right there and then it was best to keep his mouth shut.

Surprisingly―or not so surprisingly―Severus didn't take him to Ollivander; instead he took him to an odds and ends store. Ollivander would know who they were if he saw them; he was rather creepy that way. He'd known who Harry was without meeting him before, and it wasn't because of his scar! The old man had been hiding. It was as if he read auras or something; he wasn't sure what it was, but it was dead disturbing. Severus had obviously been to this place before, because he went straight to the area he wanted.

"Pick one," Severus quietly said.

"I like that one," Harry said, pointing to the Dragonhide wand holster, Common Welsh Green Dragon―the wand holster was green, obviously, as stated in the name. Severus raised an eyebrow in curiosity and surprise; of all the ones his son had to pick; it was the same one as he had.

"All right," Severus said without hesitation, "Forearm or calf?"

"Calf," Harry quietly chose.

"Calf dragonhide, Welsh Green," Severus abruptly stated to the sales clerk. Time was ticking, and he knew it would only be so long before the alarm was raised if neither he nor Harry made an appearance.

"Two Galleons and ten Sickles," the clerk said, grabbing the requested item and putting it in a paper bag. Once the money was given, the clerk handed over the wand holster.

"Here, do it now," Severus said, fishing out the holster and tossing it over to Harry. Harry, with his Seeker reflexes, managed to catch it with no problem. Bending down, he attached his new wand to it, and then fixed it securely to his calf. He'd have to watch when he was having a shower; he didn't want the rumours to fly around.

"So what next?" Harry asked curiously.

Severus smirked, "What you wanted to do: we are going to retrieve the blasted prophecy." He'd had to make sure Moody wasn't going to be in the Ministry; otherwise the old man would see them. This would be the best day to ensure that, and better still, Dung was on Prophecy watch duty. The fool was useless, and was probably sleeping or had already slunk off to sell whatever he could grab.

"Oh," Harry said, genuinely surprised.

"Come," Severus said, putting the cloak around them once they got to a deserted area of the Alley. He held onto Harry's shoulder and Apparated them to the Ministry. He could only hope Dumbledore hadn't added more protections to the Prophecy room in the Department of Mysteries.

"Quiet," Severus whispered in Harry's ear as they walked down the corridor soundlessly, moving in sync in the way that came with knowing someone as well as they did each other. That also came with being comfortable in someone's presence, letting him guide you.

It took them a while to get to the Prophecy room; when they did, Severus used his wand to detect any presence. He found one, and could also hear faint snoring, probably coming from under an invisibility cloak. Reaching out, Severus opened the door a tiny crack, hoping against hope that it didn't squeak. It didn't; breathing more easily, he opened it completely, and both he and Harry trudged through, closing the door behind themselves. Severus didn't want to use any magic, and he told Harry why.

"Don't use any magic; I don't want to risk leaving any trace," Severus said. "Now let's find it."

"Okay," Harry agreed, breathing deeply and feeling confused; how the hell were they supposed to find his? He looked at the rows and rows of tall shelves extending away from the door, all loaded with cloudy glass spheres of various sizes. There were millions here; he wasn't sure what he had expected, but it wasn't this. Peeking closer at one, he noticed dates and names; so that's how they'd find it. This was actually pretty cool, and their hunt for Harry's prophecy was on.

"Found it," Severus said at last. "Now pick it up," he said in his best snappy voice; he really wasn't a morning person.

"Why don't you?" Harry asked, walking in Severus' direction.

"Only the ones that are mentioned can pick one up; I don't want to be carted off to St. Mungo's completely insane," Severus retorted.

"Why? What would happen?" Harry asked picking it up― it was heavier than it looked.

"I have no urge to find out. Put it in your pocket and let's get out of here," Severus urged. Hopefully Dung would still be asleep, otherwise they were in trouble. He nodded in satisfaction when Harry did as directed. Once they were at the door again, he tossed Harry's invisibility cloak over them. Opening the door, they were out in a flash, sneaking back out of the Department of Mysteries as quickly as they had come. Once they were able to Apparate, Severus had them whisked out of the Ministry.

"Make sure you go to the Great Hall; be seen, and eat a little. If you wish, you can come to my quarters to listen to it. Whatever you do, do not drop it in public, or everyone will hear it. Understood?" Severus sternly asked.

"Yes, sir," Harry acknowledged, realizing Severus was in teacher mode.

"Good," Severus stated, calmly banishing all the Glamours on them that had kept them hidden from view. No one even looking out the windows in the castle would have seen them. Severus then cast a camouflage spell on himself, so nobody could see him. Harry kept his invisibility cloak, and they both headed in different directions.

Butterflies in both their stomachs (even if they would rather suffer the Cruciatus Curse than admit it), they wondered what the full prophecy was going to reveal. Severus was worried it would change his entire outlook on life.

He had no idea.

He'd finally understand Dumbledore's grand plan. The shit was going to hit the fan. There was a storm ―a storm called Severus― coming, and Dumbledore was going to know all about it.

So it began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to Jordre and Jake for their wonderful editing!


	35. Chapter 35

A New Place To Stay   
Chapter 35  
Hearing The Prophecy - Dung's in trouble 

 

Albus Dumbledore panicked when he entered his office; the spells he'd attached to one of his many trinkets were going off. It was the one for the spell he had on the prophecy; either someone had attempted to move it, or had actually taken it. Worse still, it was early morning; the place was filled with Ministry workers. Surely someone would have gotten in touch by now if Voldemort had entered the building. Instead of asking the portraits, though, he went there himself, Floo'ing to the correct department, and practically ran past everyone, not returning their greetings.

Using a spell, he noticed Fletcher was still there; he slowed his gait and calmed down. Fletcher would have noticed if someone had gotten in. Perhaps the spell had just malfunctioned? He rather hoped that was the case, but somehow he doubted it was. Albus wasn't a stupid, wishful man; looking around, he ensured no one else was around, not that there were ever many people there. It was the Department of Mysteries, after all; the only people to venture down here on occasion were the Unspeakables.

"Fletcher?" Albus spoke, keeping his voice lower than normal. He knew where the man was, he could smell him... perhaps he shouldn't have used Fletcher for this duty.

"Wazzit?" Dung responded, groggily.

"Have you been sleeping?" Dumbledore demanded; his voice had gone cold and hard.

"No," Fletcher denied; Albus couldn't tell whether he was lying, as he was under an invisibility cloak.

"Move aside," Dumbledore said; Dung was in the way of the door, having stood up.

Fletcher confusedly moved aside. Why was Dumbledore here? He wasn't who was supposed to relieve him, Moody was supposed to, later on today. He suddenly got a bad feeling about this as he watched Dumbledore open the door. With purpose he stalked towards the middle of the room; fallen spheres were lying everywhere. He saw Dumbledore's face go pale and ashen. He looked as though You-Know-Who had won the war. The look Dumbledore then sent him made him wish he were miles away.

"Get to Grimmauld Place now," Dumbledore snarled angrily, before he Apparated on the spot. Things had just gone from bad to worse, in the space of a few minutes. Voldemort had somehow gotten his hands on the prophecy, and knew... He'd have to protect Harry even more now. Voldemort would do anything to kill him; just how long would it be until Voldemort told Harry as well? Harry might feel betrayed, might not accept the plan he had for him. No, he would, he had to; he'd spent five years training him for this. Training him to accept his destiny, to save everyone, to sacrifice himself for others. The Horcrux in Harry meant that he wouldn't survive; he could only hope to keep this from the boy as long as possible.

Fletcher swallowed harshly; did he go or did he flee? His shoulder slumped in defeat. Dumbledore would find him no matter where he went. He Apparated out of the Ministry and to the door of Grimmauld Place, still under the cloak. He was let in by Sirius Black, hearing a woman caterwauling in the background, about Mudbloods and traitors in her house.  
\-----

 

Harry hardly ate any breakfast; he just showed up, doing what Severus wanted him to do. He made sure never to knock against the prophecy; he didn't want anyone to hear it except himself and Severus. His heartbeat was through the roof; he wasn't sure if he wanted to hear it or not. He just knew this was going to change everything, or confirm his worst fears. He noticed Severus sitting down as well, but he didn't look that way too long. Neville would be back tomorrow― he'd gone with his “Gram,” as he called her, for a few days. Only Harry knew what they would be doing; his heart went out to Neville. If anything, Neville's situation was worse than his. His parents were dead, buried and gone. Neville's parents were alive, gone but still there. They were stuck in their own minds, driven to insanity by the Lestranges and Crouch. He couldn't imagine what Neville went through every time he saw them. He could imagine the hopeless despair that crashed through him every time. He felt really bad for his friend, and it was that kinship that made their new budding friendship so strong. Ron could never understand Harry the way Neville could, and vice versa. Ron had his parents, and didn't appreciate how lucky he was.

Harry didn't touch the pumpkin juice, he much preferred orange juice. His thoughts unwillingly travelled to the Dursleys. Where the hell were they? He'd expected Dumbledore to have found them by now; Vernon wasn't exactly known for his sneakiness. Where were they hiding? Not that it mattered, he supposed. He was just glad they were gone; at least he wouldn't have their deaths on his conscience. The Slytherin part of him hoped they remained gone, although he was worried about where Dumbledore would place him this summer. He knew better than to hope it would be with Severus again. No, Dumbledore loved pulling the rug out from under him; then again, who else would Dumbledore trust that hated him? No one.

Harry noticed Severus leaving out of the corner of his eye; he waited five minutes impatiently, then left also. As apprehensive as he was to hear the contents of the Prophecy, he wanted it over with. He hated people keeping things from him, so here was his chance to know exactly what Dumbledore was keeping secret. It took ages, or at least it felt that way to Harry, to get down to the dungeons. He was once more wearing his cloak, despite most Slytherins going home ― he didn't want to take the chance. He was a Slytherin and extremely cautious, especially about certain aspects of his life.

"Dumbledore wasn't at breakfast," Harry announced quietly, "He's nowhere on the map."

"I noticed. Which means we don't have long, and what I suspected was true," Severus firmly stated, not surprised to see Harry this time.

"What did you suspect?" Harry asked, closing the door as Severus cast a silencing charm around the room. One could never be too careful, and there were none more cautious than Severus or Harry.

"That he had an Alert-Me spell on the prophecy," Severus said, sitting down, his face impassive.

"That means you'll be called soon, right?" Harry asked sardonically.

"Indeed," Severus dryly replied; it was going to be a long day, just as he had predicted this morning.

"So you need to smash it to hear it?" Harry asked, changing the subject.

"Yes," Severus smirked, obviously amused.

"So then you never get to hear it again?" Harry frowned; that hardly seemed right to the fifteen-year-old.

"No; once will be enough, believe me," Severus firmly stated.

"Okay then," Harry said, taking a deep breath and clutching the sphere, his heart rate once more through the roof. With bated breath, he let it drop through his fingers. Both men held their breath as it shattered on the dungeon floor with finality. The shards disappeared, as a familiar voice enveloped the room, the voice abnormally strained and loud. It was exactly like the time Harry remembered from his third year.

“The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…”

Both men didn't react to this part. Severus had heard it sixteen years earlier, nearly. Harry had been told of it during his stay in Prince Manor, once he was able to close his mind effectively, so nobody could breech his walls.

“…Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…”

Again both men had heard this; despite the fact that they were hanging on to each note of the rasping, almost disembodied voice for every word. Their hearts were nearly beating through the roof, although Severus was more composed than Harry. Harry's eyes were apprehensive and eager for information.

“And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…”

The first part they had heard, but the second part they had not. The “mark him as his equal” was obviously the scar. Harry rubbed at the offending thing, without thought. Severus, though, was dwelling on the “power the Dark Lord knows not” part of the prophecy. What on earth could that mean? What power could Harry have that Voldemort didn’t? Dumbledore probably insisted it was some insipid thing, like “love,” or something. Unfortunately, he didn't get to think much more as Trelawney’s voice spoke once more, distracting him from his thoughts.

“And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives…”

Severus' breath got stuck in his throat. He'd always suspected this, but to have it confirmed was disheartening, to say the least. Damn it, he finally understood what Dumbledore was doing, but why hadn't he trained Harry? Was it because he didn't intend to let Harry survive either? Had Dumbledore been raising his son like a lamb to the slaughter? Dumbledore had better be grateful Lily wasn't here... or he would have let her have at him―then started on Dumbledore himself. So he finally had Dumbledore's bigger picture. He felt sick to his stomach, even more so at the other words coming from the prophecy.

“The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…”

Silence permeated the air; nothing was said as both just stood there in stunned silence. Harry closed his eyes and fell to his knees. So it was true, he was responsible for everyone's life; that weighed heavily on his young shoulders immediately. His Slytherin side wanted to curl up and hide away from the world. Everything he'd gone through finally made sense: why Dumbledore had let him face Voldemort when he was eleven. Why it had been up to him to save Ginny in the chamber. Why Dumbledore had left him in the tournament and not tried to get him released from the magically binding contract. They truly had all been tests; finally he realized Dumbledore was no better than Voldemort himself. Why had Dumbledore never told him? Had he even planned on telling him? Or would he have always kept him in the dark? What was Dumbledore expecting of him? To kill Voldemort in cold blood? To sacrifice himself for the “greater good”?

"Harry?" Severus asked quietly, an odd note in his voice that Harry couldn't for the life of him place.

"Yes?" Harry responded, his voice lifeless; he looked up and his eyes were just as empty.

"This changes nothing. He was going to be after you regardless, and you cannot be responsible for everyone's life. You will not be either; they do not know the prophecy, yet they sit cowering at home... waiting for him to strike them down. They chose not to fight; they chose their own fates," Severus said sharply.

"If I fail, the world is doomed," Harry objected, his voice and mouth dry.

"No, Harry, it won't come to that; I won't let it. I won't let you fail, do you understand me?" Severus told him, his voice adamant and fierce. "We will train like never before, and you will beat him."

"What does it mean by, I have power the Dark Lord knows not?" Harry asked, his heart pounding loudly and fast. His mind was working in overdrive, dredging up all the confidence he had. Severus knew him best; if he thought he could do it, then all he could do was try. He'd do it, for his mother, for his father, and for his new dad, Severus. For Neville, Luna, and every innocent child out there. He couldn't fail; the thought of it left him cold and in emotionally crippling agony.

"I am not sure, but I'd surmise it might mean the Horcruxes," said Severus thoughtfully, glad to see some life coming back to those green eyes. They'd almost returned to the state he'd seen them when he'd first taken Harry in: dull and completely lifeless. He felt like going up to Dumbledore's office and throttling the old man. If he suspected what he thought was true, then the old fool himself was making his vow worthless. Not only was he going to have to guard Harry from Voldemort, but from Dumbledore as well.

Harry frowned; that just made no sense to him, but he didn't want to think about it anymore. He just wanted to go to the library and read more― he had to learn. It had become his coping mechanism as of late.

Just then a Patronus message came through the cracks in the door, speaking in Dumbledore's voice. "Grimmauld Place, now," was all it said, and judging by the panic in the old fool's voice... he truly had discovered the Prophecy to be missing.

A smile of pure satisfaction and malice spread across Severus' face. One that promised pain and sadistic torment for the person that was on the receiving end. Harry had seen Severus' cold, harsh look, his smirks, but he'd never ever seen one looking so… terrifying before. Under normal circumstances Harry would have cowered away, but he knew it wasn't directed at him. For the first time, he took a great deal of satisfaction in knowing he'd give Dumbledore hell. All for him, of all people; it made him feel special, wanted, loved for the first time in his fifteen years on this planet.

"Do not dwell on this, Harry; if I find out you have, I'll take you over my knee. Do not worry about it; everything will work out... I'll make sure of that, understood?" Severus admonished sternly.

"Okay," Harry said quietly. A warm glow was pooling in his stomach; even now Severus was being his rock. Without him, he knew he'd have been terrified and furious at the contents of the prophecy.

"Good; I'll see you later," Severus stated before he was gone from his rooms, making his way towards Grimmauld Place and bracing himself for one long day. He didn't like leaving Harry, especially now, of all times. No doubt he needed someone; unfortunately, sometimes one couldn't get what one wanted. He wasn't exactly anyone's version of Molly Weasley― he did not do comfort well―but Harry didn't expect it from him, which was a good thing. Severus didn't want to disappoint Harry; it was a rather odd experience. He'd never felt like that since Lily, and he had disappointed her. He didn't want history to repeat itself. Harry knew him, who he was, and what he could offer and what he couldn't.

\---------

Severus stood outside Grimmauld place, thinking clearly about the address. The door materialised out of nowhere. Scowling darkly at the town house, he reluctantly entered the house when the door was opened for him. Everyone was there already, and Dumbledore was tearing Mundungus Fletcher a new arse. Everyone was avoiding looking in their direction. Severus had to force down his anger at seeing Dumbledore; the old fool had no idea how close Severus was to tearing him a new arse! Never mind Fletcher.

Everyone glanced at Severus before their eyes were averted again; Sirius was the only one whose eyes lingered, filled with distaste and hate. For once Severus didn't care about Black; he was just too stunned, and disturbed about everything that had happened that morning.

"As amusing as this is, Albus, can we please get on with why we are all here?" Severus bluntly requested, his face closed off and his eyes flashing with something completely indecipherable as he stared at Dumbledore. How the hell could he get Dumbledore back for what he had done? Without causing the old fool permanent harm? His mind flitted across his garden and then thought of Dobby. Severus of course smirked mentally at his thoughts; it was perfect, and that was just scratching the surface. Nobody hurt Harry and got away with it, and Dumbledore had been almost worse than the Dursleys. Thinking of the Dursleys, he wondered if the house-elves were still feeding them.

Albus stopped in his rant, looking around the room almost sheepishly; he'd not meant to lose control like that. Fletcher was cowering in his seat, his brow covered with sweat, his face pale and drawn. If there was any reason why Voldemort feared Dumbledore, it was obvious to all those in the room. His magic was leeching off him in waves, his anger was so potent. "Yes, Severus, you are of course correct," he said eventually.

"Albus, what happened?" Molly asked, looking concerned; she'd been called away from her husband's bedside. The children had been there visiting also, but they'd all had to come home. They weren't happy about it, naturally. All of them, other than Percy, of course, who was still not speaking to his family. The doctors were hopeful that now that Arthur was physically recovered, he'd come out of the coma.

"The Prophecy is missing," Dumbledore announced, throwing an accusatory look at Fletcher once more. He couldn't believe this was happening; Voldemort had gotten his hands on it.

"Missing? You mean Voldemort has taken it?" Moody grunted; as usual, his magical eye was twirling around in an alarming manner. He was probably one of the smarter people in the Order, but his intellect was clouded by his suspicious mind and words.

"Yes," Dumbledore sighed, finally sitting down and looking defeated.

"What does that mean for us?" Diggle asked, a worried frown spreading across her face.

"Bad," Dumbledore said, not bothering to elaborate.

"So are we still guarding the area?" Shacklebolt asked, already knowing the answer.

"No; it's best if we guard Harry, more closely than ever ― HE knows; now he will make a much harder attempt at killing him," Dumbledore said grimly.

Severus internally winced; Harry wasn't going to be happy about that at all. "Potter is safe at Hogwarts, or at least as safe as he can get. We shouldn't waste what resources we have on him. We need more members; we need to get the giants on our side, as well as other beings. When he attacks, I can guarantee there will be a lot more people than are in this room… unless of course you expect children to fight for their lives?" Severus sneered; that was a deliberate gibe at Dumbledore. He was still furious; the longer the information had been processed, the angrier he got.

"Snape does have a point," Moody grunted, but he himself knew better than to try to change Dumbledore's mind.

"Albus! Tell him you don't expect children to fight!" Molly loudly demanded, more overbearing than usual, since Arthur wasn't there to calm his fiery red-headed wife down.

"Of course I don't," Dumbledore simply said; unfortunately he wasn't being truthful. If he wanted these people to continue trusting him now, though, he'd have to say something. Most of them had children, children they were fighting for ― to keep out of this war. He knew it was inevitable that children would be fighting for their lives, for their place in the wizarding world. It was not something his Order would be willing to listen to, or be amenable to hearing. "Very well, we shall continue with our course, with one difference: nobody is guarding the room," he said, irritation deep in his voice.

"If anything happens to my godson, Snape, I'll kill you," Black declared, his voice feral. He couldn't believe Snape hated his godson enough to endanger him... to deliberately goad Dumbledore into changing his plans from protecting his godson. Harry was in the dark; now that Voldemort knew, he was in more danger than ever.

"Are we ever going to hear what this Prophecy is?" Elphias Doge asked, speaking with a wheeze. He was as old as Dumbledore; in fact, he'd attended Hogwarts with him. Elphias was a wizard who'd been a part of the original Order of the Phoenix. Of course he had changed since the picture Moody had taken of them all; his hair was longer, and he had a lot more wrinkles.

Many eyes met him suspiciously, as if he'd just asked to kill Muggles for fun. "We were risking our lives guarding that thing; don't tell me you all don't want to ask the same thing," Elphias snapped, his wheeze barely noticeable in his anger at being looked at so suspiciously. If they didn't want to admit they wanted answers too, then fine; if he was honest with himself, he hadn't expected to be told.

"It's best the least number of people know; I doubt the Dark Lord is going to share it with others…" Severus gravely said.

Doge reluctantly nodded his head in Severus' direction, knowing the young man did indeed speak the truth.

"Indeed, Severus," Dumbledore said, quickly gaining control of the conversation. And since he was there, he had a proper Order meeting.

\--------

Harry was currently in Salazar Slytherin's library. He was hunting for a few books in particular, hoping they were down here and hadn't been destroyed. He wondered if Slytherin's descendants had been down here too, using this library, knowing how special it was. Wondering if his wand's previous owner had been down here, Sezar Slytherin. So far he had been unable to find anything in Parseltongue. The library was huge, though, a lot bigger than the actual library in Hogwarts right now, which was surprising. It also led him to believe he was correct in regards to Slytherin's descendants’ using it. Judging by the publishing dates as he pulled books off the shelves, he was right. Some of them looked very interesting; he set those aside, planning on taking them with him.

"This place is cold," Balthazar hissed, staying where he was in Harry's robes, his tongue flicking around.

Harry's eyes dimmed slightly, it was going to be the hardest thing he had ever had to do, leaving Zar down here alone. Yet there was nothing he could do; Zar was getting bigger by the day; soon he wouldn't be able to hide him from the world. Severus had warned him about getting too close; as usual, Severus knew best, but there was nothing he could do now. Unless he found a miracle, but he knew that wasn't the case―nothing magical could help. Basilisk skin was impervious to magic.

"That's only because no one else comes down here," Harry hissed in reply, making sure he was looking at his 'Familiar' so he knew he was speaking in Parseltongue. "See over there? That's a fireplace; it would warm the entire room right up."

Zar just hissed noncommittally as he placed his head under Harry's robe again.

An hour later he had twenty books on a no longer empty table; none of them were the ones he had been looking for, though. Opening a drawer, he found a few small books, a lot of paper, and very odd and no doubt old quills. Curiosity got the better of him; he knew he really shouldn't read people's journals, but he took them out and started paging through one. It was in Parselscript; this one was Sezar Slytherin's. Excitement rushed through him. Grabbing the others, he found more from Sezar and two by Salazar Slytherin. The book he held in his hand would be worth millions of Galleons; it was by one of the legendary founders of this very school. The question was― would history be accurate? Or had it been rewritten by an enemy of Salazar Slytherin's? So many possibilities lay inside that book. Opening a few other drawers, he found an unbound book, very similar in appearance to the one he had. Opening the book delicately, he found it was different from the one he had read, although also by Sezar Slytherin. He wondered briefly how many books the man had written; maybe the diary/journal would have that answer. He smirked in triumph, having finally found what he had been looking for. Luckily, he had brought his school bag with him, one that was brand new and not a hand-me-down. His education wasn't the only thing that had changed, or was that, his body wasn't the only thing that had changed; his clothes and attitude had too. He put in the other books first, and then the unbound one. He'd have to keep them in Severus' quarters; he couldn't risk Ronald Weasley finding them, or any of the others― they'd get the wrong idea. If they found out, Dumbledore would find out, and then he'd be called up to his office and never let out of the old fool's sight again. Harry shuddered at the thought, then wondered, was Severus back yet? He'd been down here a long time. He'd dump his bag and snake at Severus' quarters, then go get lunch; he was actually very hungry.

\----------- 

When Harry walked into the Great Hall, he was extremely pleased to see a black-haired boy sitting on the bench next to his usual place. Neville looked up curiously at the same time and positively beamed at him. Harry smiled back; it was nice to feel wanted. He made his way up the table, and saw that Luna was back too; she had gone with Neville... perhaps to meet Neville's parents? And his grandmother.

"Hey, how was your holiday?" Harry asked quietly, his voice sympathetic.

"It was good; my Gram is proud of me," Neville grinned proudly. "Luna came with us to meet my parents, and she was very nice to them." Harry could imagine her sitting there talking about Nargles and invisible winged horses and other odd creatures she believed existed. He stifled his amusement, thinking about the look on Neville's grandmother's face. Luna took a while to get used to.

"I'm glad you had a good time; thanks for my present," Harry said. Neville had gotten him a book on Herbology and one on Advanced Defence. He had of course read them as soon as he'd gotten them.

"Thanks, and you too," Neville replied happily; Harry, in turn, had gotten him books on hexes and curses.

"How about we practise some after lunch? Luna too?" Harry suggested, grabbing food and putting it on his plate.

"Really?" Neville asked, looking and sounding hopeful. At Harry's nod of confirmation he said, "I'd love to! I've been dying to use my new wand properly."

"Speaking of which, how is it? How are your spells? Have you tried the Patronus charm again yet?" Harry asked. That reminded him of his own Patronus, which had somehow turned into a doe. He had read further on the topic, and discovered that when someone changed, their Patronus changed. These changes could include an emotional change, such as gaining another loved one, whether it be a daughter, lover, or guardian, and other complex changes that the book didn't delve into. This was mostly because it didn't happen often, as not a lot of people could cast a corporeal Patronus.

"No, I couldn't use magic over the holidays," Neville said, after he finished eating. Unlike Ron, Neville had proper respectful manners that had, of course, been ingrained in him by one stubborn grandmother.

"How was your holiday?" Neville asked, feeling a little guilty; Poor Harry had been stuck here alone, with nobody during Christmas holidays. Or so he thought.

"It was fun, actually; been reading a lot," Harry replied honestly. Plus he had gotten to spend some time with Severus, and got presents too. Not only a wand and a wand holster; he'd also gotten a pendant from Severus, one that acted as a Portkey. It would take him to Prince Manor, regardless of the wards around the place he was in or was kept in. It was under his robes, and that was where it would remain. Luna had got him a book on sighted and suspected magical creatures. Professor Flitwick had gotten him ice mice sweets for his Christmas. Hagrid had given him a furry brown wallet with fangs. Hermione had sent him a talking diary, which he'd promptly stuffed in the bottom of his trunk. Ron had gotten him an enormous packet of Every-Flavour Beans, despite the fact that they weren't friends. Molly had gotten him a sweater, fudge, and mince pies. Dobby, bless his wee soul, had given Harry a portrait of himself, no doubt painted by the creature himself. Harry had, in turn, given Dobby a pair of black socks to go with his new robe. This was the robe Harry had asked Severus to give him, and he looked smart in it. Remus and Sirius had given him a book on practical defensive magic and its uses against the Dark Arts. There were, of course, the mirrors Black had said that James and he had used during detention and had had lots of fun with. All he would need to do was say Sirius' name while looking in his, and he would see him there to talk to. Tonks had made him feel rather sorry for himself; she'd given him a small working model of his Firebolt. It had made him miss flying like no one would ever believe. The house-elves of Prince Manor had gifted him with an assortment of sweets: Sugar Quills, Chocolate Frogs, and a home-made Christmas cake.

"Oh," Neville said; he had noticed Harry reading a lot this year; in fact, he had better watch out, or he would put the Ravenclaws to shame. Harry had never been one for reading books before; hell, he hadn't really read the books he was supposed to for the upcoming year. Something had changed, but he wasn't confident enough to ask Harry what, although he had a feeling it had something to do with You-Know-Who.

"Ready?" Harry asked as he emptied his plate.

"Yes," Neville said, almost bouncing up and down on the bench.

"Then go get Luna; I'll meet you at the doors," Harry told him, getting up and walking away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Jake and Jordre for their hard work editing this story :)


	36. Chapter 36

A New Place To Stay  
Chapter 36  
Conversations, Training, And Friendships

 

As soon as the Order meeting was done, everyone left, very glad to be out of the room. It was tense and overbearing, and Dumbledore was still furious, even if he didn't display it. They could sense it; he wasn't his usual jubilant self. The biggest giveaway was the fact that Dumbledore was missing his customary twinkle. He had a very good reason to be upset; his plans were unravelling around him, at a very alarming rate. Dumbledore didn't like it when things didn't go as planned or his way. First the Death Eaters had discovered where Harry lived, and he’d had to put him somewhere else. Then the Dursleys disappeared or were captured after leaving the safety of the wards. Then the Ministry attacked Harry at Prince Manor, and the boy didn't use magic to defend himself, risking all his efforts to keep him alive to do his duty. Then he'd fallen out with Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley. Granger he didn't care about, but Ronald Weasley he'd planned for Harry to befriend. The child was eager to prove himself to be better than his brothers; it was why he'd never protested going on an adventure to save the school or a family member. He'd been angry when Ronald had left Harry alone in his greatest hour, but grateful when they had made up. Now the prophecy had been stolen, and Voldemort knew; he'd hoped the Dark Lord would never find out. He was already obsessed with killing Harry, without adding the entire contents of the prophecy into it.

"Sirius, has Harry been in touch?" Albus asked the canine Animagus, who was, as always, feeling depressed and very confined. He was sick and tired of being cooped up in a house he hated. He failed to realize that without it, he'd be stuck in Azkaban again. He was ungrateful and childish; he'd never had the chance to grow up. Azkaban wasn’t the kind of place one could think to grow up in.

"Yes; he thanked me for his Christmas gifts," Sirius said, eager to talk about his godson, eager to talk to anyone. He knew that pretty soon he'd be stuck in the house by himself, with no one to listen to other than his bloody mother, who enjoyed telling him how much she hated him and was disappointed in him.

"How is he?" asked Dumbledore.

"He's fine; glad to be back at Hogwarts no doubt… I'm surprised he didn't come, though," Sirius replied, a frown marring his forehead. "I mean, Ron and Hermione came, and they've been rather quiet, too."

"Hasn't Harry told you the three of them have fallen out?" Dumbledore asked. So Harry wasn't confiding in his godfather― that had changed. Harry had always confided in his godfather, which was why he kept the Animagus so close. He was always the first to know what was going on. He could keep an eye on and know everything about Harry, without the teenager even knowing.

"What? Why?" Sirius asked surprised, his eyes wide. He was sitting in one of the old chairs that had come with Grimmauld Place when they'd put the Fidelius spell on it. The entire house was falling apart and full of Dark artifacts and all sorts of magical household pests. Most of the pests were gone; Molly had torn into the townhouse, saying that if her children were going to be there, she was at least going to make it safe for them. So the Doxies and Boggarts were gone, as well as some of the more harmful objects lying around. It was obvious to see why Sirius didn't like living there, but anyone would agree it was better than Azkaban. Well, maybe not Sirius Black; the Animagus couldn't wait to get out of there.

"I have no idea; I had hoped you would," Dumbledore said; he had a feeling it was his doing. The argument they'd had in Grimmauld Place came to mind, when he thought that. Surely Harry wouldn't have broken off four years of friendship because Dumbledore had told the teenagers not to get in touch with him.

"No; I had no idea he'd fallen out with them… it makes sense why he didn't come now," Sirius frowned in concern. The three of them had always been close, very close, as he had been with James and Remus. He refused to think about Peter Pettigrew.

"Has Harry had any more dreams lately?" Dumbledore asked, getting onto his main reason for sitting here, speaking to Sirius Black.

"No, nothing like that," Sirius said, shaking his head negatively. "The last one was before he came back." He had been very disturbed reading Harry's letter; he'd gone straight to Dumbledore for advice. He'd replied to Harry as soon as possible, leaving out a lot of what Dumbledore had said to him—which had not been much; Dumbledore wasn't much of a giver. He expected to be told a lot of information, but refused to share much in return.

"Just as he said," Dumbledore quietly muttered; he'd expected him to have more dreams, or visions, as he knew they were. He was seeing out of Voldemort's eyes for a reason: he was connected to him via the Horcrux.

"You spoke to him?" Sirius said hopefully.

"I have indeed," Dumbledore admitted. "I'm sorry, Sirius, but I must get back to Hogwarts; I can't be gone too long." Having gotten what he wanted, he didn't care to remain in this place any longer. It was decrepit and filthy, not somewhere he wanted to spend too much time. Not when he could go back to his very clean, orderly office at Hogwarts.

"All right," Sirius acquiesced sulkily. He hated being stuck here alone; how he wished he could go to Hogwarts and be with and see Harry. Hell, he'd prefer to go to Hagrid's and live as a stray dog.

"Goodbye, Sirius," Dumbledore said, and with that he prepared to Floo out of the building. "Let me know if Harry gets in touch." And before Sirius could reply to that, he was gone.

\---------

 

"Dobby?" Severus called. He was sitting in his living room, glad it was the holidays. He was going to have an early night tonight. Since it wasn't his duty to patrol the halls, and he had no detentions, it was possible. It had been a hell of a day, and he couldn't wait for it to be over. His training plans for Harry had just taken a nosedive; he needed to train him properly. It wasn't just to survive anymore; he was going to have to train him to kill. He wasn't happy about it, but he'd rather Harry survive and kill then die and be a martyr. He had to get Harry to see that there was no light or dark magic; it was the intention behind it. He wasn't sure how Harry felt regarding magic; he'd just have to speak to him about it.

"Yes, sir?" Dobby asked; his eyes were shining with hope and mischief. He loved being called by Severus; he was always asked to do the most mischievous things, mostly to Umbridge.

Severus leant down and whispered something to the house-elf. Dobby's eyes went huge when he heard the orders Severus was giving him. An unsure look entered his eyes; Severus saw it and then whispered something else. A hard look entered Dobby's eyes as if what he'd heard had strengthened his resolve. Nodding his head, the house-elf Apparated out, a scheming look on his face.

\-----------

"Alright then, tell me what spells you know, not what we learned in Defence," Harry demanded as they entered the Room Of Requirement. It was a huge training arena with plenty of padding around it, to stop themselves from being hurt too badly. Harry didn't want to have to explain why one of them was hurt to Madam Pomfrey.

"Not much; I've only read a few chapters into the book," Neville confessed guiltily.

"Disarming charm?" Harry asked; that was one of the first spells described.

Neville nodded his head yes; he'd learned that one on his own, but he obviously hadn't practised it. "I've learned the basics of it, but I've not performed it yet."

"I've done the same," Luna said.

"All right. Neville, give me your best," Harry said, moving to stand five feet from Neville. Luna stepped to the side, watching them with her mysterious blue eyes. Sometimes when she looked at him, he thought she had a look of surprise on her face. It was her natural look, Harry realized, and he didn't think any less of her for it. He also noticed her corkscrew necklace with interest.

"What do you mean?" Neville asked, standing and facing Harry, looking quite alarmed.

"Disarm me," Harry said. "What did you think we would be doing?" he asked, staring at Neville curiously.

"Okay," Neville replied, looking a tiny bit flustered; this wasn't what he was expecting. He'd expected Harry to show him spells, not have Neville perform them on him! It explained the mats and blue walls ... they'd stop anyone from being hurt. Most probably him; he wasn't anywhere near Harry's level. "Expelliarmus!" Neville cried, aiming for Harry's wand.

Harry held onto his wand, gripping it tightly, but it went flying; he couldn't deny he was very surprised. Neville was either more powerful than he let on, or he had been paying attention to the instructions on the spell.

"Well done," Harry praised, unable to keep how impressed he was to himself. "But don't think just because I was disarmed that I'm defeated," he finished. With that he swung his legs out and Neville found himself staring at the ceiling of the room. His body exploded in shock, he hadn't expected Harry to do that.

"Duly noted," Neville said to Harry, who was standing above him looking amused. Adrenaline spiked through him, and he flushed in embarrassment when Luna giggled at them. "Why did you do that?" he asked when he got up.

"Don't you know how to fight?" Harry asked, looking at Neville oddly.

Neville didn't reply; he just stared at Harry as if he had lost his mind.

"What do you do when you've been disarmed?" Harry eventually asked, his voice full of exasperation.

"Run?" Neville ventured, staring at Luna for help; he wasn't sure what Harry was getting at

"Oh, for God's sake," muttered Harry, "No; you take down your opponent by fighting, then get your wand and stun them! Just because you've lost your wand doesn't mean the fight is over!" Harry loudly exclaimed, his voice full of passion.

"Er, okay," Neville squeaked. His eyes were huge, and he stared at Harry as if he'd never seen him before. "Is that how you got away from You-Know-Who?"

Harry wanted to let out a biting retort, but thought better of it. Remembering Severus' tale about the last war sobered him up. He truly couldn't blame people for preferring to use that name as opposed to his real one. He'd been through too much to be scared of a name; it didn't mean everyone else had. "No," replied Harry, not elaborating.

"So you are going to teach us Muggle fighting?" Luna asked, sounding impressed.

"If you want," Harry replied, feeling awkward now; there was way too much talking going on.

"Cool," Luna said, grinning widely.

"What about spells?" Neville asked, wanting to pout.

"We will be doing both," Harry declared firmly.

"Okay," Neville nodded in agreement.

So they began. Harry asked the room for a dummy, and told Neville about blasting curses. "The best one to use would be Confringo, it's one of the more powerful ones," Harry explained. "There are no wand movements, just put as much magic into it as you can. Test it on the dummies."

Neville nodded in agreement.

"Luna, stand over there, we are going to try the disarming spell," he said, very businesslike.

Soon the room was filled with “Confringos” and “Expelliarmuses.” Once Harry was sure she had the disarming spell down, he told her to do what Neville was doing, the Confringo spell. Harry was using his new wand, and it was so much better than his old one. The spells came more easily, or at least it felt that way. It was odd; it was how his phoenix wand had felt when he’d first got it. Comparing them both today, he realized the sphinx hair imbued in phoenix tears was so much better. He wondered what it meant, was he just more powerful now than he had been at the age of eleven?

"So why Muggle fighting?" Neville asked once they'd stopped destroying dummies with the blasting curse, and learning basic punching techniques using punching bags.

"Other than to save your life? Punching one in the nose would stop them from being able to say spells; punching them much further south would leave you enough time to get your wand back and finish them," Harry stated.

"I've never thought of that… why has it never been suggested before?" Neville asked curiously. He was sweating buckets, breathing heavily but feeling very satisfied with himself.

"Because wizards think themselves invincible because they can suddenly do magic," Harry answered, shrugging his shoulders. He knew what it was like to feel defenceless, without a wand, then with one! He knew nothing, though, compared to Riddle's forty years of magic training. From what he had seen and been told of Voldemort, he only used three spells regularly, the Imperius curse, the killing curse, and his favourite, the Cruciatus curse. Did he really have a lot of magical knowledge? Or did it just seem that way because of his age? To him it felt as though Voldemort was more preoccupied on being immortal, not with learning everything magical. Although he wasn't going to assume anything, because as the saying went, assuming made an ass out of “you and me.”

"Good point," Luna remarked, smiling at Harry in that vague sort of way she usually did.

"Why do you run every morning?" Neville asked, sitting on the mat and wincing slightly; his hands were really quite sore now from the punching bag.

"How do you know about that?" he asked in surprise; he hadn't realized anyone knew he ran in the morning other than Severus.

"Noticed your bed empty, some time before Christmas, when I was on the way to the toilet. I looked out― saw you running around the Quidditch pitch," Neville admitted, a little sheepish at Harry’s being so surprised. It made him feel as if he'd been caught snooping, not observing.

"Oh," Harry's mind was racing; he needed to tell a plausible lie, so he went with one that wouldn't be questioned too much. "I started running when I got back to Hogwarts; not playing Quidditch, I needed a way to let off some steam." His face was honest and sincere. As much as Harry liked Neville, his mind was an open book; so was Luna's. He wasn't about to put them in danger, or Severus either by confiding in them.

"Can I join you?" Neville asked out of the blue, startling Harry; he hadn't been expecting that. "What?" he asked, blinking in shock as he faced Neville. He didn't mean to be nasty to his friend, really he didn't, but that was the last thing he'd expected to hear.

Neville flushed in humiliation and embarrassment; he seemed to know what was going through Harry's mind. Then his shoulders stiffened and he stared Harry straight in the eye and repeated, "Can I join you?" He said it clearly, enunciating each word.

"Um… sure… no problem," Harry replied, still slightly dazed.

"Thanks," Neville said, grateful that he hadn't been immediately shot down.

"Let's go," Harry said, "I'm tired." It was true; he was, but he wasn't going to his bed to sleep. He was going to read some of the journal, and some of the books on animals and familiars. He so desperately wanted to keep Zar; he missed him every time he had to drop him off in Severus' quarters. It would kill him to put Balthazar down in the Chamber; Zar himself didn't even like the chamber. So he was determined to come up with something, anything to keep him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Jake and Jordre's dedication in editing this story :)


	37. Chapter 37

A New Place To Stay  
Chapter 37  
Dumbledore's Turn 

 

Neville's face was plastered with sweat, his breathing laboured; he was sitting hunched over. He wasn't sure how Harry had managed to keep this up for so long, he was utterly exhausted. He just wanted to go to bed already and sleep, sleep the entire day away. His legs and arms were shaking; his muscles weren't used to the strain. He'd only managed to run around once; Harry had run around three times... without even so much as breaking a sweat! He was impressed with Harry's endurance. Neville had yet to eat anything; he was unable to get his breathing under control.

"Breathe through your nose, big, even, deep breaths," Harry calmly instructed, demonstrating for his exhausted friend. He was eating his breakfast as he always did, not a hair out of place. Luna had sat on the benches when they were running, giving Neville support. Luna would be good for him; she was honest, sometimes too honest and blunt. She didn't care that he was only able to go one lap, she still congratulated him as if he'd run a marathon. He'd have loved to have someone like that to support him, a girlfriend. Unfortunately it was far too dangerous for him to have one; they'd likely be killed by either some wannabe Death Eaters or, worse still, Voldemort.

A few minutes later, Neville was surprised to find Harry's advice worked. Suddenly parched, he practically drank the entire goblet of Pumpkin juice in seconds. "Thanks Harry," Neville murmured, finally grabbing some food to eat.

"No problem," Harry replied. "Did you manage to read any of the book last night?" Neville had said he planned on reading it; he was rather curious as to why he hadn't read it while at home. His birthday was nearly the same as his, and he'd managed to read a lot of books in Prince Manor.

"Yes, five chapters; it gets more fascinating as it goes on! I had no idea," Neville admitted enthusiastically.

"Yeah, it's a good book," said Harry, "What about Luna, does she have a copy?"

"She took a copy from Hogwarts library, I think she's already halfway through it." Neville grinned in amusement. It was clear to Harry why Luna was in Ravenclaw; she did love her books, but didn't live inside of them, like some of the other Ravenclaws. Some Ravenclaws were never seen without a book in their hands. Yes, it was a school, but there was no need to carry a book around everywhere. He'd always felt that way; maybe it was because at Hogwarts he'd felt free, finally able to live, breathe, without fear of being beaten and ridiculed by the Dursleys. Unfortunately it hadn't lasted long, he'd realized that people were fickle, and it wasn't just the Dursleys. Fickle as hell; they all were. They just loved to hate people and scorn them, whether they'd really done something or not. Or maybe it was because he'd survived something as a child that made him more geared towards needing to be approved of, or disapproved. Hermione had been the only one not to disapprove of him... his eyes travelled towards her and a sigh left his lips. Why had she chosen Dumbledore over him? He could imagine what he would have been like if he'd been cooped up inside Privet Drive. Trying to listen in on the Muggle news for information, wondering why his friends weren't writing. Wondering what Voldemort was up to, what he had done. To them he had been somewhere ten times worse, with a man who'd at that point hated every breath he took. His friends' abandonment still hurt, he could admit that; he didn't want to be hurt again. He was sick of it, of being judged, being laughed at, and being liked only to be hated again. It was relentless. So with new friends, he might just find some solace and peace yet. He couldn't deny he missed his old friends, but he was also extremely angry. He doubted he'd ever be friends with them again, not the way they used to be. It just wasn't possible; maybe Hermione, someday, if she stopped choosing adults over her friends. Ron, though, had proven himself unworthy over and over again.

"Harry?" Neville was staring at Harry in concern.

"Hm?" Harry asked, coming out of his thoughts and looking around in confusion.

"Are you okay?" the black haired teenager asked, "You sort of spaced out there." His eyes were filled with concern for him and it warmed Harry's heart.

"Sorry about that," Harry murmured, "I'm kind of distracted." But he did not elaborate on what.

"I can see that." Neville grinned, opening his mouth to say something else, but he didn't get a chance. He just so happened to look down the Gryffindor table, and caught sight of Dumbledore. Neville burst out laughing; the old man was scratching himself like a monkey, a rabid monkey. His face had gone bright red, where he was itching.

Harry followed Neville's gaze, curious to see what had gotten him so amused. His jaw dropped, he'd never seen a more ludicrous sight in his entire life. Dumbledore was always so composed, never letting anything bother him. Yet here he was, almost dementedly scratching himself, like a man possessed. He tried stifling his laughter, but that didn't matter since everyone else was laughing in amusement at Dumbledore's current predicament.

"Come on, Albus, up you get," Poppy ordered in her normal no-nonsense voice. When Minerva moved to help her, Poppy gestured for her to stay. "It might be contagious; until we know what's causing it, nobody should come near."

"Very well, Poppy," Minerva said, ceasing in her attempt to help Albus. She stepped away as well, since her seat was right next to his. Poppy bound him to a stretcher, stopping him from scratching further. She had the forethought to leave through the teacher's entrance, rather than lead him through the thong of laughing students.

Minerva turned to the students, pursing her lips angrily. She let off a few bangs with her wand, getting the students to quiet down and turn their attention to her. She was not happy with their behaviour. Of course she was being prejudiced; if it had been Umbridge, she'd have done nary a thing. Since it was Dumbledore, the tables had of course turned, but thankfully the students stopped laughing.

"I think it's best if we got on with our breakfast, don't you?" she said sternly, "Twenty points from each house for such a blatant lack of respect." Even the Slytherins stopped laughing, staring at her incredulously; twenty points for laughing? When they'd laughed at Umbridge? Yet they'd done nothing about their laughter then.

"That's not fair," Neville said in disbelief.

"Since when was life fair?" Harry asked, arching an eyebrow at Neville.

Neville blinked; Harry looked very scarily like Professor Snape at that moment― it was rather intimidating. Blinking again, he found that Harry's face was back to normal… had he imagined it? Shaking his head, he decided not to think about it too much. Then he finally registered Harry's statement and nodded in agreement. It was true, life wasn't fair, but he couldn't believe they'd lost twenty points for laughing. They'd laughed at Umbridge all year, yet as soon as someone else was targeted, it was a blatant lack of respect? Just because it was Dumbledore? He wanted to scoff, but held it in; that wouldn't be very Gryffindor of him. He'd noticed, of course, as usual, that Hermione hadn't laughed, although Ron had, and he was currently being lectured by Hermione. For his “blatant lack of respect for the Headmaster.” Neville did scoff this time.

"What is it?" Harry asked, turning to Neville again at his scoff.

"Looks like Granger hasn't learned her lesson; if she keeps it up, she'll lose the only friend she has left." Neville was being obviously loud about it; Hermione flushed bright red and ran from the Great Hall.

Harry grinned in surprise and amusement; he really liked Neville. He knew by that comment that there was more to him than met the eye, or rather even more to him than met the eye. He'd known there was more to Neville, ever since first year. Dumbledore's words had been true. It did take someone brave to stand up to the enemy, but a great deal more courage to stand up to one’s friends. It was a very Slytherin thing to do; he remembered Malfoy’s doing it to him, his snide comments about having no family to go home to. At the time, he'd been so happy, relieved even, that he didn't have to go back, he just couldn't care what Malfoy said at the time. It had been a dream come true. He thought better of actually saying something like that to Neville, especially when the others were around. They'd take it into their hearts, and start ignoring or bullying him because of it.

"What do you think was really wrong with Dumbledore?" Neville asked curiously.

"I don't have the faintest idea," Harry told him, and he really didn't care to think about it. He was beyond angry with the headmaster; thinking about the prophecy made his insides begin to boil in fury.

"I guess we best get to class," Neville said.

\------------

They were in Potions, a class both Neville and Harry hated, though of course for different reasons. Neville was clumsy; half of it was because he was afraid of their teacher. The other half was that Neville just didn't have a steady hand. Harry had offered to pair up with him; Neville didn't have a reason not to, so he agreed to it. He hadn't wanted to, not out of maliciousness, but because his potions always ended up a mess. The Slytherins had favourite targets; he and Neville were those targets, which helped mess up their potions to ruinous extremes.

"Potter, what do you call this?" Severus asked, staring down his hooked nose at Harry.

"A ruined potion?" Harry responded, being deliberately cheeky.

"It would appear you aren't as stupid as you look," Severus sneered. "Five points from Gryffindor for this disgrace, and your cheek."

Harry stared him in the eye; he'd never backed down before, so he could hardly start now. The Slytherins sniggered in amusement at the fact that he was being told off. Harry didn't get how they could still find it funny. It had been happening for five years, the same insults every time. It had gotten boring a long time ago; he had resigned himself to the fact that Snape hated him ages ago. Or that's what he had thought, of course. If figured that the thing he tried to hide, was the thing that made Severus like him. The real him, Harry Potter, not the Boy-Who-Lived he'd created for the world.

Everyone waited with bated breath for more humiliation or points to be removed; they didn't get a chance. A loud hesitant knock sounded on the door, surprising everyone. Nobody in his right mind willingly knocked on Professor Snape's classroom door. If anything, everyone avoided going near him unless they had to—or at least the students in the houses that didn't begin with an “S.”

"Enter," Severus snapped, glaring at the door; everyone almost expected it to catch fire, his glare was so fierce. On the one hand, Severus was glad for the interruption; on the other, he hated being interrupted during class. Potions was a very volatile class; one wrong addition could render the classroom completely destroyed... in the process making student-kebabs.

The ashen face of Dennis Creevey slowly appeared around the door, his body shaking. He was fourteen years old; you'd think he'd have been a little hardened by the previous three years. Even Neville wasn't that bad; Harry wondered if Severus picked on Dennis a lot. Judging by the sick look on the teenager's face, Harry would bet ten Galleons he did.

"Madam Pomfrey wanted me to give you this, sir," the teenager squeaked, hastily going over to hand him the closed letter, almost tripping over his own feet in the process. As soon as Severus grabbed it, he retreated five feet.

"Leave," Severus snapped, not sparing the trembling boy a second glance. Showing no emotion, he read the missive, obviously from Poppy Pomfrey, and they could guess what it was about. It had only been this morning that Dumbledore had been taken to the Hospital wing.

Dennis didn't need told twice; he was out of there like a shot.

"It looks like you are safe for now, Potter; the rest of you, bottle your potions and leave them on my desk. You have ten minutes to be out of my classroom before I begin docking points," Severus briskly announced.

Everyone hastily began bottling their potions, leaving one on the desk and banishing the remains, cleaning up and heading for the door. "Oh, and Potter, detention tonight," the teacher said, his voice full of vindictiveness.

"Yes sir," Harry said angrily, leaving the classroom and the sniggering behind.

\----------

"What is the matter, Poppy?" Severus asked, dramatically making his way into the Hospital wing. His robes twirled around him, as if protecting him from anything that might come his way. He looked angry, even with Poppy. "It better be important."

"Albus has had a severe allergic reaction to Toxicodendron radicans," said Poppy. "None of the usual remedies are working." Her voice was flustered and exasperated. Twice someone had come into her hospital wing with what appeared to be something simple wrong with them. Yet when she’d tried to help, it had failed; she was beginning to feel rather useless.

"Poison ivy? How did he come into contact with that? Has he been in the greenhouses?" Severus asked, secretly amused. Of course it wasn't working; he was a Potions Master. He'd altered it to be unresponsive to normal remedies. He wasn't even sure if Sprout had any poison ivy in her greenhouse; obviously Poppy had no idea either.

"I have no idea," Poppy replied, extremely agitated. "I'm at a loss; can you try and figure out why this is different?" Poor Albus was covered from head to foot in big oozing blisters. She'd had to tie him to the bed to stop him from spreading it any further, not that there was anywhere else to spread it to. She'd applied calamine lotion, baking soda, and jewelweed. None of these had worked, and it had been six hours since she'd brought him here.

"Give me a sample of his blood and the oil residue; I'll see what I can do," Severus said irritably.

"Thank you, Severus," Poppy replied in relief. Going over to her patient she used a spell, and a small amount of blood was placed in a vial. She then scraped his skin, to get a small quantity of the urushiol to test. Urushiol was what caused the boils and sores that currently made themselves at home all over Dumbledore's body. She wasn't sure what Severus could do, but he was a genius at potions. If anyone could come up with something, it was that man.

Handing them over, she sighed tiredly. "I don't understand it, Severus; in all my years I've never had to ask another for help. Never in my career; having to contact St. Mungo's was bad enough… what am I to do about this?" she said, feeling disgraced.

"No matter how good we are at what we do, Poppy, we always have something new to learn," Severus simply said before leaving.

Poppy stared after Severus, realizing he hadn't sneered or snarled at her for her “sentimentality.” He'd been nice, in his own weird way, and he was never like that. She stared after him for what felt like forever, until her shock wore off, when Dumbledore moaned in agony. The itching was driving him crazy; if he couldn't scratch it, he was going to go insane.

\--------------

"What happened to Dumbledore?" Harry asked, the second Severus stepped through his front door. It was the only door, actually. He didn't have a back door; it was a school, after all. Severus stared at Harry curiously; he was relieved to see that the boy wasn't worried or upset.

"Apparently he came into contact with some poison ivy," Severus replied without showing emotion.

Harry frowned. His mind drifted to Prince Manor; he'd seen poison ivy there; “Leaves of three, leave them be.” Severus had no reason to do something so childish and immature… right? No, Severus hated pranks of any kind; Harry was drawing the wrong conclusion, just as in his first year.

"Will he be okay?" Harry asked, a mask of indifference on his face. It wasn't really a mask, though; he didn't care at the end of the day... well, he did, but only because he knew Voldemort hadn't attacked Hogwarts because the old fool was there.

"He'll survive," Severus stated, keeping the amusement out of his voice.

"Good, I'd hate to have to fight so soon," Harry remarked honestly. He wasn't ready; he knew that.

"Indeed," Severus smirked wryly.

"Do you know where Dumbledore's going to put me this year?" Harry asked nervously.

"I don't," Severus said with a pause. "Do not dwell on it, Harry; there's no point to it. It accomplishes nothing."

"I know," Harry said.

"But it changes nothing," Severus replied dryly. Harry would worry no matter what anyone said, even him. He made himself a cup of coffee and poured Harry some orange juice; he'd finally gotten around to buying it. Perhaps he should have left Dumbledore alone; he shouldn't be wasting his time on things like that. He had to find a way to extract the Horcrux from Harry's magic and body without hurting him. So far his research had been actually researching the Horcruxes, and the effects they could have. He could probably learn more from Harry than he could from any book regarding the effects. Right now he was considering looking up ways to transfer it from Harry into an inanimate object, to kill it that way. He had a journal full of details about Horcruxes, which he kept under lock and key, heavily charmed... nobody could ever read it. He'd considered spelling it so when he died, it would burn, but he didn't want to do that... just in case he died prematurely and Harry still needed it. He was a spy; each time he got called could be his last day on earth. He was by nature a pessimist; he'd never been a dreamer or deluded.

"Thanks," Harry said, taking his goblet of orange juice and grinning slightly. He wasn't bothered by Severus' emotionless state. It was just who Severus was; nothing would change that. He hoped, though, that underneath he was happy.

"Have you found anything about Zar yet?" Severus asked sitting down, deciding to get Harry's mind off the question buzzing around it. He was feeling very smug about himself; Harry was happy, and all it had taken was some orange juice. The teenager was very easy to please. He didn't understand why he hadn't seen it before. His son had been very happy with his Christmas presents as well; his face, to pardon the pun, had lit up like a Christmas tree. Harry wanted to keep his snake; he was looking for anything that could help him in that regard.

"No," Harry sighed, obviously very put out about it. "I'm going to go back down to the chamber… see what else I can find."

Severus frowned at that, "Then I shall accompany you." It wasn't a question, it was a statement.

Harry nodded his head. He didn't mind; in fact, he was glad for the company.

"I've told Dumbledore you are finally getting the hang of Occlumency," Severus said in warning, "So if he asks how it's going, you tell him you finally understand."

"Okay," Harry said. "Ron's been following me; I didn't notice it at first, until he was always unusually close on the map."

"Well, you need to be extra careful from now on," Severus said, naturally alarmed. Nobody could find out about them; it would be a catastrophe.

"I am," Harry retorted indignantly. Severus wasn't blaming this on him, was he? That was so unfair if he was. He couldn't help it if Ron was suddenly following him around. The boy should just be happy that his father was out of that coma, and recovering. He should be spending time with his family, and Granger, but no, he had to follow him. He didn't know what Ron could hope to accomplish by following him. What he did know was that it would spell trouble if he found out.

"Good," Severus said, trusting Harry's judgment, something he wouldn't have done a year ago. So much had changed and happened, some bad, mostly good for them both.

Harry settled down, his anger abating when he realized he'd overreacted. He was still on edge from the Potions class, he realized. He drank the rest of his orange juice in silence, reading his books. Meanwhile Severus wrote in one of his books, one he kept for potions research or ideas he had.

He headed off with a quiet goodbye ten minutes before curfew. For all intents and purposes, when he got up to Gryffindor common room, he looked exhausted, as everyone else did after serving detention with their Potions teacher. He never let a student go early, and he never took pity on one.

Soon enough, Harry was going to learn just how badly he never took pity, when Severus began the real duels. Severus had to teach Harry to kill now, not just to survive. They were on the turn of the tide, and Severus' decision would affect the world as they knew it. Whether it was good or bad… as always… would remain to be seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Jake and Jordre for editing!


	38. Chapter 38

A New Place To Stay  
Chapter 38  
The End Of Yet Another Year; Harry, Though, For Once Knew He Wasn't Alone 

Harry sat on his bed in Gryffindor Tower, his fingers twirling the miniaturized basilisk fang. His thoughts were heavy, as he thought about what Voldemort could have in store for this year's meeting. It was a given, a tradition really: something always happened on Halloween and at the end of the year. It was Voldemort's twisted way at getting to him; after all, his parents had died on Halloween. Of course, the end-of-the-year thing had become a habit since Voldemort had first tried to come back. The only exception had been during Harry’s third year, although he'd still been attacked by a bloody Death Eater: Pettigrew. Harry's lip curled in repugnance just thinking about the whining sack of shite. He was a rat whether he was human or an Animagus... he didn't have a spine.

The past month had been very quiet to say the least; it was a tranquility Harry had never really had before. He didn't bother getting stressed about when Voldemort was going to attack. He'd finally decided to take Hagrid's words to heart. What was going to happen would, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. All he could do was meet it head on when the time came. Severus had said the same thing to him too, come to think of it. Now that their exams were starting, he was, unfortunately, beginning to falter. Old habits were beginning to reassert themselves. He was wondering what Voldemort was planning; there was never a reprieve from the snake-faced bastard.

Dumbledore had been cured a few days ago; his dad had given him a potion to counteract the oil in the poison ivy plant. Dumbledore was still in the hospital wing, though; he was weak and extremely injured by the itching he'd done over the past month. Harry didn't even realize what he had unconsciously called Severus; otherwise it would have scared him to the core, especially considering he didn't know how Severus felt regarding him.

"Harry, don't we have our History of Magic exam today?" Neville asked, bursting into the room and looking rattled. He might be rattled, but he wasn't out of breath in the slightest. Neville, much to Harry's pride, had kept running. He was very good now, and could almost keep up with him. The weight he'd lost was astonishing; poor Neville, though, couldn't handle the girls ogling him. He was either red or purple when attending classes now. What they didn't get was that Neville was already in a relationship; he was very happy with Luna, who had liked him the way he’d been before, not just because he looked better now.

"Yes," Harry calmly said, placing his fang back under his clothes. He didn't know why, but he liked to keep it a secret. It was the first true gift that meant a lot to him, other than Hagrid's. Hagrid had given him a photo album of his parents; it meant the world to him. It was even better than seeing them in the mirror of Erised. "In twenty minutes."

"Oh," Neville said, looking mighty relieved. "Well, that's all right then."

"You got any sweets left?" Harry asked curiously.

"Um, no; we finished them a week ago," Neville replied.

"Too bad; I'm starving, and it's ages until dinner," Harry sighed.

"You know where the kitchen is; go ask Dobby." Neville rolled his eyes. Harry had showed him the way in two weeks ago. He'd been shocked to say the least; Harry knew a lot of out-of-the-way places in Hogwarts. He'd thought for a while it was to do with all the adventures his friend had been on. Then he'd seen the map, and he had been blown away! It was an ingenious invention. And to think it had been made by Harry's dad, Professor Lupin, and Sirius Black. Well, there had been one other, but Harry had told him once in an angry, bitter, tone about that one. He understood all too well why Harry hated Pettigrew. He hated the Lestranges and Crouch Jr. with every fibre of his being. If he ever met them, he'd kill them, simply put. With all the new spells he was learning, it would be possible for him to do it, too. Neville sometimes wondered why he hadn't befriended Harry earlier; they had so much in common, mostly tragedy and anger with those who'd caused it, as well as the need for revenge at all costs.

"Good idea!" Harry chimed; his eyes were slightly shadowed though, and it told Neville that Harry's thoughts weren't entirely on food. He'd come to read Harry rather well over the past year.

"What are you thinking about?" Neville asked. Normally Harry didn't answer, but he was hoping for a day when he would, when he'd trust him to keep it a secret, to be able to help. That he wasn't Ron or Hermione, and he wouldn't go running to Dumbledore. Not that they did; they just relied on Dumbledore too much. Far too much for just students. It was wrong; no student should be close to Dumbledore like that, to listen to him, without question, and actually do as they were told, especially outside of school. He was just a teacher, the head teacher― so what? He certainly wouldn't have listened; if he'd known what was going on, he'd have written to Harry. Unfortunately, he'd not felt comfortable; Harry had only ever spoken to him a handful of times a year before this. They'd known each other, but they hadn't been proper friends until Harry had fallen out with Hermione and Ron. He didn't care about them; their loss was his gain.

"It's the end of the year," Harry said as if it explained everything. Maybe to Harry it did, but Neville just frowned.

"What does that mean exactly? You don't want to go home? You can come to Longbottom manor if you like. Gran's always got something to moan about; might as well really give her a reason." Neville grinned in wry amusement; he'd grown up with her, so it was all he knew.

"Thanks, Nev; I don't think Dumbledore would let me," Harry scowled darkly. Plus the Dursleys were still missing. Harry wanted to feel bad, he really did, but he couldn't care less. Their disappearance had made his year. Vernon was a bastard, and he was glad he and his bloody belt weren't in sight. "That wasn't what I was meaning anyway; you know something always happens."

"Oh, right," Neville said, understanding blooming across his now thin face. Of course, something always happened to Harry Potter at the end of the year. The stone; the Chamber and Ginny Weasley, then Sirius Black, and of course the Goblet and poor Cedric. He wasn't sure anything worse could happen. Harry had been devastated by the seventh-year's death. Neville wasn't sure why it mattered so much, but he reckoned it was survivor's guilt. 

"Yeah," Harry grimly murmured, as both he and Neville headed down the staircase into the common room. Harry didn't even glance at Ron, Hermione, or Ginny, who were staring at him sadly and broodingly. They had books open in their laps, obviously studying for their exams. It seemed as though Hermione had toned down, in an effort to keep her last remaining friend. There was no diary or timetables out to keep track of their “study habits,” as she had done all previous years.

They made their way through the castle until they reached the kitchen entrance and tickled the pear. It giggled at them as it granted them entrance into the huge kitchen before them. Inside was the biggest collection of house-elves a human would ever see.

The house-elves immediately surrounded them, all speaking at once; the elves further away began bringing forward food, trying to ply them with a lot of it. Harry and Neville only took a few cakes, grinning widely and thanking them.

"Where's Dobby?" Harry asked curiously.

"Right here, Harry sir," Dobby chimed, his small legs running toward them, passing his new friends to get to him.

"Hey, Dobby, you okay?" Harry grinned; he looked like a Christmas tree today. He had green and red clothes on, and a pair of old trainers― where he’d got them, Harry didn't have a clue.

"I'm fine, Harry, sir," Dobby beamed. He looked very happy, a lot happier than even when he’d first joined Hogwarts. Nothing would ever beat Dobby's look when he’d first been freed, though. Harry remembered it every single day, and always wondered if he'd looked that happy when Sirius offered to take him in, before the happiest day of his life had been destroyed by Pettigrew's escape. Which, of course, was his fault; if he'd just killed the bastard rather than being the Gryffindor Golden Boy he was supposed to be...

"Good," Harry said; he wanted to be happy, but his gut was churning in worry.

"Harry, we have to go," Neville said, around the food in his mouth. He was looking at his watch when Harry turned to face him.

"Yeah, thanks guys," Harry said to the elves, taking an extra cake and making his way out. They stuffed their faces with what they had before turning the corner. They didn't want their classmates wondering how they'd gotten their hands on food, especially since they’d been too nervous to eat at breakfast or lunch because of the exams.

"Let's get them over with," Harry said. He was glad it was their last exam, although he dreaded Hogwarts’ finishing. Just where the hell was Dumbledore going to send him? It filled him with dread; he could imagine being sent to Moody's, or somewhere worse. He prayed, though, that Dumbledore would send him to Severus'. Hopefully their acting had been perfect, and the old fool still thought they hated one another. Dumbledore seemed to love placing him with people who hated his guts.

\-------------

The fifth-years entered the Great Hall at two o'clock and took their places in front of their face-down examination papers. Harry felt exhausted. He couldn't understand it either; he'd had a normal amount of sleep. It was as if someone had given him a sleeping potion. It was impossible, of course; those worked right away.

"Turn over your papers," Professor Marchbanks directed from the front of the Hall, flicking over the giant hour-glass. "You may begin."

Harry stared fixedly at the first question. It was several seconds before it occurred to him that he had not taken in a word of it; there was a wasp buzzing distractingly against one of the high windows. Slowly, tortuously, he at last began to write an answer.

He was finding it very difficult to remember names and kept confusing dates. He simply skipped question four (In your opinion, did wand legislation contribute to, or lead to better control of, goblin riots of the eighteenth century?), thinking that he would go back to it if he had time at the end. He had a stab at question five (How was the Statute of Secrecy breached in 1749, and what measures were introduced to prevent a recurrence?), but had a nagging suspicion that he had missed several important points; he had a feeling vampires had come into the story somewhere. He'd read up on this― what the hell was going on? Had someone fed him a potion to stop him from concentrating? It was beginning to feel like it. Sure, he'd never liked History of Magic, and normally had a nap during that class... but this was an exam. Growling at himself, he creaked his neck from side to side, blinking his eyes and began again.

He looked ahead for a question he could definitely answer and his eyes alighted upon number ten: Describe the circumstances that led to the formation of the International Confederation of Wizards and explain why the warlocks of Liechtenstein refused to join. He could visualize a heading, in a book: The formation of the International Confederation of Wizards… he had read the book only this morning.

He began to write, looking up now and again to check the large hour-glass on the desk beside Professor Marchbanks. He was sitting right behind Parvati Patil, whose long dark hair fell below the back of her chair.

'… The first Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards was Pierre Bonaccord, but his appointment was contested by the wizarding community of Liechtenstein, because -'

All around Harry quills were scratching on parchment like scurrying, burrowing rats. The sun was very hot on the back of his head. What was it that Bonaccord had done to offend the wizards of Liechtenstein? Harry knew it had to do with trolls… so he too began to scribble away. Bonaccord had wanted to stop troll-hunting and give the trolls rights… but Liechtenstein was having problems with a tribe of particularly vicious mountain trolls.

He closed his eyes again, trying to see them, trying to remember… the Confederation had met for the first time in France, yes, he had written that…he thought about what he hadn't already added. Goblins had tried to attend and been ousted… he had written that, too…

And nobody from Liechtenstein had wanted to come.

Harry was thinking, his face in his hands, while all around him quills scratched out never-ending answers, and the sand trickled through the hourglass at the front.

He was walking along the cool, dark corridor to the Department of Mysteries again, walking with a firm and purposeful tread, breaking occasionally into a run, determined to reach his destination at last… the black door swung open for him as usual, and here he was in the circular room with its many doors…

Straight across the stone floor and through the second door, patches of dancing light on the walls and floor and that odd mechanical clicking, but no time to explore, he must hurry. He jogged the last few feet to the third door, which swung open just like the others.

Once again he was in the cathedral-sized room full of shelves and glass spheres; his heart was beating very fast now. He was going to get there this time, when he reached number ninety-seven he turned left and hurried along the aisle between two rows. But there was a shape on the floor at the very end, a black shape moving on the floor like a wounded animal; Harry's stomach contracted with fear and excitement.

A voice issued from his own mouth, a high, cold voice empty of any human kindness.

"Take it for me, lift it down, now I cannot touch it, but you can," The black shape on the floor shifted a little. Harry saw a long-fingered white hand clutching a wand rise at the end of his own arm, and heard the high, cold voice say "Crucio!" The man on the floor let out a scream of pain, attempted to stand, but fell back, writhing. Harry was laughing. He raised his wand; the curse lifted, and the figure groaned and became motionless.

"Lord Voldemort is waiting,"

Very slowly, his arms trembling, the man on the ground raised his shoulders a few inches and lifted his head. His face was bloodstained and gaunt, twisted in pain, yet rigid with defiance.

"You'll have to kill me," Sirius whispered.

"Undoubtedly I shall, in the end," the cold voice said. "But you will fetch it for me first, Black. You think you have felt pain thus far? Think again; we have hours ahead of us, and nobody to hear you scream."

But somebody screamed as Voldemort lowered his wand again; somebody yelled and fell sideways off a hot desk onto the cold stone floor; Harry awoke as he hit the ground, still yelling, his scar on fire, as the Great Hall erupted all around him. Fuck, thought Harry to himself, how the hell had he fallen asleep? Fear exploded in him; did this mean that Voldemort could tamper with his thoughts, feelings, and emotions? He knew he hadn't been tired. His bloody shields had been up! Why hadn't they stopped this? His stomach sank to the pit of his stomach, containing the Horcrux was becoming harder to do. It was as though it was getting stronger each day.

"I'm not going… I don't need the hospital wing… I don't want..." He was gibbering as he tried to pull away from Professor Tofty, who was looking at Harry with much concern after helping him out into the Entrance Hall with the students all around them staring.

"I'm - I'm fine, sir," Harry stammered, wiping the sweat from his face. "Really… I just fell asleep… had a nightmare…"

"Pressure of examinations!" the old wizard said sympathetically, patting Harry shakily on the shoulder. "It happens, young man, it happens! Now, a cooling drink of water and perhaps you will be ready to return to the Great Hall? The examination is nearly over, but you may be able to round off your last answer nicely?"

"Yes," Harry said wildly. "I mean… no… I've finished it…"

"Very well, very well," the old wizard said gently. "I shall go and collect your examination paper, and I suggest that you go and have a nice lie-down."

"I'll do that," Harry said, nodding vigorously. "Thanks very much."

"Potter, what do you think you're doing?"

"What the bloody hell happened?" Ron demanded. He was grabbing at Harry, staring at his ex-best friend in alarm. Ron knew something had happened this time; he was rubbing viciously at his scar. It was a dead giveaway; he couldn't let Harry have an adventure without him. Perhaps if he joined in on one, then Harry would remember what good friends they were, forgive them for what they'd done, and things would go back to normal. Then Neville would go back to being insignificant and he…he'd go back to being Harry Potter's best friend.

"Get your arm off me, Weasley," Harry snarled as another stab of vicious pain assaulted him.

"Harry, do you need to see Madam Pomfrey?" Neville asked coming forward, "I tried to help you in the hall, but they told us to sit back down."

"It's all right; come on, follow me," Harry said, jerking his head and arm, getting it out of Weasley's grip. "Don't bother following me again, Weasley, or I'll curse you," he said seriously, his green eyes flashing with anger.

They went to the Room of Requirement.

"So what is it?" Neville asked.

"Do you know about the connection I have with Voldemort through the scar?" Harry asked, knowing very well Neville didn't.

Neville gaped at him, shaking his head, completely shocked.

"Well I do. It started back in first year; it hurt when Quirrell had his turban to me. It hurt all year in Defence, and it started getting worse at the end of the year. I somehow knew it had to do with Voldemort. I didn't see or feel anything until just before the world cup. I saw Voldemort being fed venom from Nagini, by Pettigrew and Crouch." He winced at the deranged look in Neville's eyes at the mention of the man, who, by the way, was now dead. The Dementors had sucked out his soul.

"So you just had one?" Neville asked, absorbing this new information. He wasn't as shocked as he should have been. Did that mean he had unconsciously suspected it? Or had he gotten so used to Harry’s always being full of surprises that he just couldn't be surprised anymore? It was probably somewhere between the two.

"Yeah," Harry said, sitting down and nursing his sore forehead.

"What did you see?" Neville asked.

Harry knew he had to watch what he said; Dumbledore wasn't above using Occlumency to get answers.

"Do you ever look Dumbledore in the eyes?" Harry asked seemingly at random.

"No, why?" Neville asked, completely baffled.

"Then you shouldn't. He knows Legilimency; he can read people's minds… If I tell you this and he finds out, then that's it. I'll never be able to tell you anything else… do you understand?" Harry asked.

"Yeah," Neville said. He'd never been a confident person; he rarely looked anyone in the eye. "Harry I'm a pureblood, my gran and uncle made sure I knew Occlumency before Hogwarts its sort of a thing with old lines.

"All right. Voldemort's set up a trap; he wants me to think he has Sirius Black," Harry said. "He'll probably send Death Eaters, which means I have a chance at having the Ministry finally realizing Voldemort is back and capturing some of the Death Eaters."

"Why? I mean, I know he wants to kill you, but why do that?" Neville asked, confused.

"He wants me to collect something for him, something only he and I can touch," Harry confided.

"You just figured that out?" Neville asked, his eyes wide in surprise; he was impressed.

"No, not really…" Harry said, trying to figure out the best way to explain.

"So you, what? Want to set up a trap instead?" Neville asked, excitement thrumming through him. Was he finally going to get to go on an adventure with Harry? Ever since Harry had started, Ron, Hermione, and Harry had had some great adventures. Hearing about them had made him long for friends of his own. Was he going to get to boast about it, instead of Ronald Weasley?

"Yeah," Harry said, nodding his head.

"How? I doubt he'll just send one or two... we aren't good enough to fight three or more Death Eaters, Harry," Neville said bluntly. It was the truth; this mission sounded like suicide to him

"Who said we were going alone or unarmed?" Harry chucked wickedly. Severus was going to kill him, that was for sure, for doing what Dumbledore and Voldemort wanted, but he had to do this. He wanted the world finally to realize what he'd been telling them all year. Voldemort was back, and he wasn't about to disappear.

"All right; what do you have in mind?" Neville asked. Adrenaline was pumping through him; he wanted to prove himself to Harry. That he could be trusted, that he'd always have his back, no question asked.

"We need Fred and George," Harry said.

"Why?" Neville asked, frowning in confusion. How could the twins help?

"Their products," Harry elaborated. "The Swamp Thing, that they tested in the girls' toilets?"

"Okay; let's go find them, then," Neville agreed. "Let's hope they aren't in an exam."

"The Tower it is," Harry said. They both left the Room of Requirement quickly, running back towards Gryffindor tower. When they were almost there, they bumped into Luna. She was about to ask a question, when Neville grabbed her arm, and three of them began running. Or rather, Luna was being dragged, a look of bewilderment on her face.

"I'll wait here with Luna," Neville said as they skidded to a stop at the portrait. Harry said the password and disappeared inside.

"What's going on?" Luna asked, trying to catch her ragged breath. She'd just been pulled along through half the school.

"Harry is going to face Death Eaters, trap them; he knows where they’re going… we’re going to get there before them and set it up," Neville grinned, almost hopping up and down. He was off on an adventure, and he was super excited.

"You aren't going alone. I'm coming; it's what friends are for," she said before Neville could complain about her being in danger.

Neville smiled softly at her, before kissing her, turning red in the process. He nodded his head as he pulled away, pushing a loose piece of her hair behind her ear. He wondered if love would always be this potent. Or if it would wear off; if that was the case he didn't understand why people broke up.

"Ready to rock…" Fred said, coming out of the common room, his arms loaded with stuff.

"…and roll," George finished; their faces were identically ecstatic.

"How are we getting there? It will have to be fast to set a trap," Neville pointed out what he thought was a flaw in the plan.

"Floo'ing; our dad does it every day to get there," Fred said seriously as George grabbed a bag and began putting their products into it.

"He came in through a door the last time I saw him," Harry pointed out.

"He Apparates home if he's been on a job," George said, closing the bag, a smug smile on his face.

"Let's do this," Harry said, a vindictive look on his face. Nobody bothered commenting on how Slytherin it looked... because everyone was supporting one another right now.

"Wait, house-elves can go wherever they like; Dobby could take us where we wanted to be in seconds… we wouldn't need to Floo and go through corridors," Harry suddenly said, whacking his head in exasperation at never thinking of it sooner. "Dobby?" he called firmly.

"Yes, Harry sir?" Dobby squeaked, his huge green eyes staring adoringly into Harry's. He nodded at Harry, Wheezies, and Loony and Nevvy.

"Can you take us to the Department of Mysteries, the room of prophecies?" Harry demanded.

"Master won't like that, Harry sir," Dobby protested, his eyes wide with uncertainty.

"Who?" Luna asked in confusion, she thought Dobby was a free house-elf.

"Dumbledore?" Neville guessed, looking just as confused.

"Dobby, take us," Harry said more sternly. "Or we'll just find another way," he told the poor conflicted house-elf.

"Yes, sir," Dobby said solemnly. Touching them, he whisked them out of Hogwarts completely undetected. After a short whirling journey that had them all feeling sick, they landed exactly where Harry wanted them to, in the exact room he'd seen his vision and where he'd been months ago to retrieve the prophecy.

Dobby resolutely stayed where he was; he wasn't leaving them by themselves.

"Let's get it set up," Harry said, grabbing the bag from George, and quickly gathering up everything they needed. "How do you make them come out?" Harry asked, staring at the joke product curiously.

"Smash it," Fred shrugged.

"What if they don't Apparate into this room?" Neville asked, looking around nervously.

"They will," Harry confidently replied.

"Okay, when they get here, what do we do?" Neville asked, his face alight with anticipation.

"Remove their wands; they will be stuck in the swamp until others get here," Harry explained.

"So he can just get them out of Azkaban again?" Neville asked, his disgust evident.

"Here," Harry said, throwing everyone a portable swamp, then a firework. That would draw the workers right down there.

"It's completely empty here," Neville worried, looking out the door once more, keeping all eyes open.

"Yeah, that's why we’re using the fireworks," Harry said. "If it doesn't work… then we’re screwed."

"How long do you think they’ll be?" Fred asked, curiously going down the rows of prophecies, looking at the names on them. Every single one he read was unknown to him.

"Well, how long do you think it would take if we hadn't Floo'ed, or Apparated like we did?" Harry asked. He was waiting patiently; Dobby was solemnly silent waiting in the corner.

"Well, I would have suggested the Thestrals; about an hour on them, I'd say," Luna said looking contemplative.

"Why do you assume HE wouldn't think you'd use the Floo?" Neville asked, still staring around nervously.

"Good question; I didn't," Harry said. "They might be here any second, Fred… how do you get rid of that stuff? I mean just from your own feet, because we’re going to get covered in it too."

"Just use a spell on your shoes; it's what we did," George smugly told him.

"All right; do it to all of us," Harry said, now looking around cautiously.

Fred and George did as they were told, doing each other's feet first, then George did Harry's and Luna's, and Fred did Neville's and Dobby's. Nodding in satisfaction, they waited rather impatiently for them to arrive.

They didn't have to wait much longer.

The first pop they heard had Neville, Luna, Fred, George, and Harry all throwing the portable swamps. They smashed violently against the marble floor; the surprise on the Death Eaters' faces would have been amusing, to say the least, if the situation hadn't been so tense. The swamps came up well past their calves; in the space of a few seconds, spells were flying back and forth.

The most surprising sight of all was a house-elf, snapping his fingers, causing the wands of the Death Eaters to go flying out of their grips. They couldn't defend themselves against magic they couldn't see or understand. There was shouting and shrieking all around the room; if that didn't bring anyone down, fireworks wouldn't work. Regardless, Fred and George lit up their Dragon firework. As they ran from the room, trying to avoid the fireworks, the sight that met their eyes made them burst into peals of laughter.

Lucius Malfoy's hair was on fire, where a firework had got him. He was shrieking as his white hair burnt out in front of them. He was bald and singed before they knew it. Three of the Death Eaters had tried to get out, only ending up body-down in the swamp. Their wands were buried deeply in the swamp, with no hopes of being recovered.

They burst out of the room and along the corridor, only for Harry's scar to feel as if it were bursting into flames. Harry skidded to a halt, his face grim; he hadn't thought Voldemort would show up here, of all places. He swallowed thickly, staring at his friends. "He's here," he said, his voice apologetic.

Fred and George looked very nervous; drawing their wands, they moved forward. Luna did it without so much as a sign she was nervous. It was as if she were going to a party, not confronting Lord Voldemort.

"Where's Dobby?" Neville asked, realizing the house-elf wasn't there.

Harry's heart sank; he knew were Dobby was... telling Severus. He was in sooo much trouble. He had hoped nobody would have known he was behind this. That, unfortunately, was apparently too much to hope for.

"Back at Hogwarts," Harry nervously swallowed. In all honesty, he'd rather have to face a dragon and Voldemort than Severus when he was angry.

Then they saw him in all his glory, Voldemort standing there, glaring at him with his horrible disfigured snake-face.

Then the real battle began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks Jake and Jordre for making this story even more awesome!


	39. Chapter 39

A New Place To Stay  
Chapter 39   
In Deep Trouble 

Dobby popped back to Hogwarts, without telling the teenagers. He was extremely worried something was going to go wrong. He also didn't want to be given clothes, so he did the only thing that could help the situation. Tell Master Severus the truth and hope for the best. He had dropped the Death Eaters' wands in the swamp, so they were at least safe from the bound evil wizards. He could sense Severus was alone, which wasn't surprising, since the exams were over. So he popped straight to the Potions Master, who didn't so much as look startled by his appearance. He did look at the elf curiously though, but seeing the worry on the elf's face made Severus' heart sink. What had Harry done now? It was the only reason he could think for the Dobby's appearance.

"Where is he?" demanded Severus― he wasn't a stupid man.

"At the Ministry of Magic, Master Severus," Dobby said, cringing at the fury on his face. Harry was definitely in deep trouble when he got back. Hopefully he wouldn't be handed clothes as well.

"Watch over them," Severus demanded, swooping towards his Floo network, his entire body radiating with wild magic. He didn't watch or wait for Dobby to reply, but got in touch with Shacklebolt immediately.

"Severus?" the bald black man queried, surprised to see him in the fireplace.

"Potter is at the Ministry of Magic; get as many of them as you can over there now," Severus hissed, using his last name with a raw amount of fury for the first time in a year. "He's no doubt in the Department of Prophecies. Do not tell Black."

Shacklebolt's eyes widened before he nodded, gathering as many people as he could. Severus was already gone, going through the potions in his pocket before downing one without so much as a grimace. Just wait until he got his hands on that boy, he was going to kill him. The calming potion wasn't even taking the edge off.

\---------

Harry felt his heart pounding wildly in his ribcage, the adrenaline spiking dangerously. Voldemort flicked his wand; fire zoomed out of it and headed straight for Harry and his friends. Harry didn't think twice, he pushed them behind himself and used water to shield them from the dangerous flames trying to consume them.

"Give it to me, Potter," Voldemort hissed furiously, his red eyes flashing a look Harry was all too familiar with: Hatred. "I shall spare one of your friends."

"Don't, Harry," Neville said, his wand pointed straight ahead.

"I don't have what you want, Voldemort," Harry said truthfully, feeling awed as his friends stood side by side with him, despite his efforts to keep them behind him, keep them out of the line of fire. They'd never seen Voldemort before, yet they were standing tall and proud—even Fred and George, much to Harry's amazement. They were united against a common enemy who wanted them all dead, each for a different reason.

"Then you will all die," Voldemort hissed, his eyes flashing dangerously before he aimed his wand and shouted "Avada Kedavra!"   
The others froze, but Harry had prepared for it; it was, after all, Voldemort's second favourite spell. Harry used a spell to send birds flying from his wand; the spell hit them, and the birds promptly disappeared.

"Don't just stand there! Fight him!" Neville Longbottom snapped, but he wasn't talking to Harry. No; he was talking to a bunch of terrified Ministry workers who had obviously heard the commotion and had come down to investigate. One of them was recognizable as the Minister of Magic ― Cornelius Fudge. He was cowering in a manner that made him resemble Peter Pettigrew.

Voldemort merely laughed in amusement; they were a bunch of cowards! They would never fight him! Staring at Harry, he began to invade his mind; Harry fell, screaming in agony, trying to keep Voldemort from his memories. His and Severus' life depended on it, so with every ounce of strength and magic, he began fighting back.

"Expelliarmus!" Neville snapped, but Voldemort just flicked his wand as if it were nothing, stopping the spell very effectively. Neville would have admired it if he hadn’t been so worried about Harry. Luna was down on the floor with him, stopping him from hurting himself.

Fred yelled a bat-bogey hex; George yelled, "Incarcerus," and Neville yelled, "Confringo." Fred's was the only one to hit its target; how bat-like bogeys could come out of that flat nose was anyone's guess. Then Order members began Apparating in, and Voldemort realized he had no chance of winning. Throwing them a death glare, he Apparated out.

"Cowards!" Neville hissed, glaring at the Ministry workers with hatred and scorn.

"Are you all okay?" Shacklebolt asked, joining Luna and Harry on the floor in concern. After checking Harry over for injuries, he nodded in satisfaction when he found nothing wrong with him.

"There are Death Eaters stuck in the room down the hall," Neville smugly announced. Shacklebolt stared at Neville, impressed. That smug smile reminded the man of the boy's father.

"Your father would be very impressed; you look just like him," Shacklebolt said, nodding his head in respect. "He's a good man."

"I know," Neville responded, surprised to hear someone speaking about him. Nobody spoke about his parents, unless it was his Gran telling him he'd be disappointed. He'd heard it constantly, especially as a child, when he had not done accidental magic. It made him feel grown-up, a man even, to hear someone say that. Instead of making him feel horrible when someone mentioned them, it filled Neville with pride. It made him feel even better that Shacklebolt was actually talking about him as “still there” and not “dead,” because his dad was still there, just lost. Permanently lost, but still there; a part of him knew they would be better off moving on.

"Take this; it will get you back to Hogwarts," Shacklebolt instructed, handing over a Portkey. "I'll deal with everything here." Each of the students touched it, Harry being last, of course, and very reluctant. He had a serious aversion to Portkeys. Nobody could blame him; one had taken him to Voldemort, and in the process someone had died because of it.

They landed with a thump, all still standing in the entrance hall. Their Potions teacher was standing there, looking at them. They all blanched at the sight of him, not daring to look at him or even each other. He looked as though he was going to breath fire any moment. If looks could kill, they would be six feet under.

"One hundred points from Gryffindor, and twenty from Ravenclaw… for your blatant disregard for school rules. Return to your common rooms at once; I don't want to see you out again tonight. Otherwise the house points will be the least of your worries," Severus hissed, his black eyes flashing with violent rage. There was no point to detention― they were leaving in two days. When they got back, though, they would find him being unreasonable when giving out detentions. The fact that Harry had come back unscathed wasn't helping his anger any. He was furious with him. The boy insisted he didn't want the fame and burdens that came with it, yet the first chance he got, he went out to play the hero.

"Yes, sir," the defeated students chorused as they did as they were told. They did not want to risk the wrath of Severus Snape any longer than possible. It looked like dinner was out of the question as well, then.

Severus had to stop himself from shaking Harry furiously, or, worse still, hurting him. His anger had always been his weak point. It was a good thing there were still a few days of school left, because otherwise he'd have taken the boy over his knee and walloped him one. Once they were gone, he returned to the Great Hall, and ate his dinner.

"I trust the students are still in one piece?" Dumbledore asked; he had been alerted to the situation. Unfortunately, he was still too weak to do much; otherwise he'd have demanded that Harry go to his office. He wanted to know what had happened, but he'd just have to rely on Shacklebolt. He didn't want Harry or any student seeing him so weak. He was Albus Dumbledore; things like this weren't supposed to happen to him.

"What do you think?" Severus snarled. He still hadn't forgiven Dumbledore for what he'd found out. He probably never would; he hated those who abused children. To him the ones that knew and did nothing were the biggest monsters.

"Minerva, please let Harry know I wish to speak to him tomorrow afternoon. I want to know just why he left the school grounds," Dumbledore instructed, turning to his deputy Headmistress. He wanted to do it tonight; in fact, every instinct was demanding he do so. Unfortunately, however, he'd taken his last pain reliever to get to dinner, putting on a front for his students. He had only been alerted to what was happening once the Order had been dispatched. He hated having to rely on anyone; he'd wanted to leave at once to play the hero... but he was in no fit state.

"Of course, Albus," Minerva said agreeably. "One hundred points, Severus?" the woman grouched angrily.

Severus just sneered; he wasn't in the mood for anyone or anything right now. As soon as he was finished eating, he left, his mind and anger brewing over past the boiling point. Of course, he would not harm Harry, but how did you punish someone who'd been treated badly all his life? He couldn't ground him. He couldn't send him to bed without supper, he couldn't lift a hand to him… so how was he supposed to show the brat how angry he was with him? That got him thinking. So the boy thought he was ready to face Voldemort? Perhaps stepping up the training would be a good thing. He'd show him just how unprepared he was; perhaps duelling would be the best way to go about it. Oh, the boy wouldn't realize what had hit him.

Then again, he was taking it for granted he'd have the boy, when there wasn't any guarantee. Just because he actually wanted the brat, Dumbledore probably wouldn't let him stay at Prince Manor. His anger had finally abated, somewhat.

\--------------

"Potter!" Minerva McGonagall called, stalking towards the teenager. He was playing with his food rather than eating it. Severus hadn't looked at him once since he’d got back. He didn't know why, but it hurt worse than when Dumbledore had ignored him earlier that year. It made him feel really bad; guilt was churning in his stomach, as well as apprehension. He'd be leaving tomorrow, he still had no idea where he was going. He wasn't so sure Severus even wanted him again now. He absently rubbed at the basilisk fang under his clothes. He wanted to explain to Severus, try to make him understand why he'd done it.

"Yes, ma'am?" Harry asked turning towards her. His green eyes were dull, and it wasn't because none of the Gryffindors were speaking to him. The loss of points had placed them in third place instead of first. With only one day left to go, there was no chance of their regaining the points. Ravenclaw was in the lead, and looked set to win the house cup. He shoved his plate away from him, not eating any of his lunch, just as he hadn't eaten any breakfast.

"Professor Dumbledore wants to speak to you; go up after lunch. The password is cockroach clusters," Minerva said, staring at Harry, her lips pursed angrily. The ironic thing was, it wasn't because he'd left the school. It was because he'd lost her the chance of having the House cup in her office once again this year. You'd think a grown woman would be more mature.

"Yes, Professor," Harry said glumly.

She walked away without another word.

"At least something good came out of it," Neville said, trying to cheer Harry up.

"How's that?" Harry asked half-heartedly.

"The world knows he's back," Neville said.

Both of them looked down at the newspaper that was folded in half beside them. Neither of them had read it; the title was enough.

 

The Second War Begins   
HE WHO MUST NOT BE NAMED RETURNS 

In a brief statement on Friday night, Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge confirmed that He Who Must Not Be Named has returned to this country and is once more active. "It is with great regret that I must confirm that the wizard styling himself Lord― well, you know who I mean ― is alive and among us again," Fudge said, looking tired and flustered as he addressed reporters. "It is with almost equal regret that we report the mass revolt of the Dementors of Azkaban, who have shown themselves averse to continuing in the Ministry's employ. We believe the Dementors are currently taking direction from Lord― thingy. We urge the magical community to remain vigilant. The Ministry is currently publishing guides to elementary home and personal defence, which will be delivered free to all wizarding homes within the month." 

The Minister's statement was met with dismay and alarm from the wizarding community, which as recently as last Wednesday was receiving Ministry reassurance that there was "no truth whatsoever in these persistent rumours that You-Know-Who is operating amongst us once more." Details of the events that led to the Ministry turnaround are still hazy, though it is believed that He Who Must Not Be Named and a select band of followers (known as Death Eaters) gained entry into the Ministry of Magic itself on Thursday evening. 

"Yeah; instead, they find another reason to hate me," Harry said, glaring at the rest of the Gryffindors angrily.

Neville “baahhh'ed” at them, causing Harry to laugh for the first time in what felt like weeks. Grinning at him, he finally managed to eat a few bites of his lunch before sighing. He might as well get this over with; no doubt Dumbledore would want to know why he'd gone there. Well, for the most part he could tell him the truth, but he'd have to lie about some things. Dumbledore couldn't know he had removed the prophecy; not only did it put him at a disadvantage, but Severus too.

\-------------------

"Cockroach clusters," Harry murmured unhappily. His new good mood had vanished as soon as he left the Great Hall. His stomach was beginning to flutter nervously. He walked up the stairs and knocked on the door, impatiently waiting for Dumbledore to answer. He hated Dumbledore, always would. Dumbledore pretended to care, yet his actions always showed the opposite.

"Come in, Harry," Dumbledore said in his gentle, benign voice. Terribly deceptive he was, not just his voice, but his appearance as well. Didn't the students ever wonder why Voldemort was so scared of him? And it wasn't because he offered Voldemort lemon drops into submission.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Harry asked, opening the door and standing there, looking everywhere but at Dumbledore's eyes. He knew he could protect his mind; Voldemort had given it his best shot, but failed spectacularly. Voldemort hadn't even managed to glimpse a single memory, much to Harry's smugness. He doubted Dumbledore would risk it the way Voldemort had. After all, Voldemort had nothing to lose; Dumbledore did.

"I do indeed! Come, sit," Dumbledore said, beaming at Harry as if he was very glad to see him.

Harry barely withheld a grimace; Dumbledore was far too cheerful in his opinion. Ambling over, he sat down, smiling slightly as he caught sight of Fawkes. He had always been terribly fond of Fawkes since he’d first met him. He grinned wryly, remembering the first time he'd met him. He had thought he’d somehow caused the bird to burst into flames. It wouldn't be the first time his accidental magic had caused chaos, although nothing had ever burst into flames. He could name a few things he wished had!

"Care to explain why you left Hogwarts yesterday evening, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, looking over his half moon specs at Harry. Disappointment was clearly written across those blue eyes of his. Harry felt nothing as Dumbledore regarded him solemnly. He was just more worried about Severus' reaction. This was a first― whether he liked Dumbledore or not, he'd always been affected by the man's words and actions.

"I got a vision," Harry said, suddenly finding the floor very interesting, "Voldemort was hurting Sirius… when I got there it was a trap. Fred and George let off their fireworks and swamps and we ran for it. Voldemort tried to kill me; then, when he couldn't, he tried to get into my mind."

Dumbledore sat up straighter at that announcement; probably for the first time, he was genuinely curious. "Did he succeed?" Dumbledore asked; his voice was urgent. He had to know if his spy had been compromised.

"No, sir; Fred, George, and Neville distracted him, then the Order arrived," Harry simply said.

"Good," Dumbledore said in relief. "I hope you realize how disappointed I am you left Hogwarts. How much danger you put not only yourself in, but also everyone else!" the Headmaster admonished.

"I'm sorry, sir," Harry said, still staring at the floor, the picture of remorse.

"As you should be!" Dumbledore said gravely. "Do you remember asking me when you were eleven years old why Voldemort went after you as a baby?"

Harry's breath stopped; Dumbledore couldn't be about to do what he thought he was? "Yes, sir," Harry said, kicking himself into gear.

"I said you were too young to know, that I'd tell you someday when you could understand," Albus continued. There was no point in keeping it from him, since Voldemort knew anyway. No doubt Voldemort had attempted to kill Harry in the Ministry as a warning. Now that the evil wizard knew the full contents, it was vital he keep Harry safe from harm. Voldemort no doubt wanted Harry dead even more now.

"Yes, sir," Harry responded, placing a confused frown on his face; no doubt it was expected.

"I think it's time you were told the truth, Harry," Dumbledore said, placing a Pensieve on his desk.

Harry sat up, all his attention on Dumbledore as he watched him remove a memory from his mind. He watched him put it in the Pensieve, but instead of entering it, he watched Trelawney's head rise above it like a live hologram or three-dimensional figure. It wasn't her normal voice, but one he'd heard twice before: once for the “servant breaking free” prophecy; then, of course, the prophecy he was about to hear, the one he'd taken during Christmas.

“The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have the power the Dark Lord knows not… and either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives… the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month diesss….”

With that said, Trelawney disappeared back into the Pensieve.

Harry sat gaping at it, playing his part to perfection, "I… sir… I mean… what does it… what did that mean?" Harry asked, his eyes wider than saucers.

"It meant," Dumbledore explained, "That the person who has the only chance of conquering Lord Voldemort for good was born at the end of July, nearly sixteen years ago. This boy would be born to parents who had already defied Voldemort, three times."

"Me?" Harry asked, breathing raggedly. He was shaking his head and closing and opening his eyes, as if he thought this was some sort of absurd nightmare.

"Yes, Harry, you," Dumbledore said sadly.

Harry gulped. "I can't kill him… he's stronger than me! I couldn't do any of the magic he does!" he said, panicking. The worst of it was, that was exactly how Dumbledore wanted it. He'd never lifted a hand to train Harry, despite knowing the prophecy all this time. Harry hated him for that; thank Merlin for Severus, otherwise Harry would be a sitting duck.

"You'll find a way," Dumbledore said soothingly.

"So… so I have to kill him or he’ll kill me?" Harry asked, his voice full of disbelief and horror.

"Yes," Dumbledore said. For the longest time neither spoke, and Harry desperately wanted to leave the office. He was feeling hemmed in; he felt as if the walls were closing in on him. He didn't know why, but he just wanted to be out of Dumbledore's presence.

"May I leave, sir?" Harry choked out, the only genuine emotion he had shown since entering the office.

"Of course," Dumbledore sighed sadly, watching Harry positively jump from the seat. "You might be asking yourself why I did not name you Prefect, Harry…." Once Harry turned back to stare at him, he continued, "I rather thought you had enough to deal with."

"Yes, sir," Harry said. He still didn't know where he would be going. As if reading his thoughts, Dumbledore waited until the last second to tell Harry.

"Harry, I am afraid you will be returning to Professor Snape's house this year," Dumbledore said.

Hate and anger flashed across Harry's face before he opened the door, so fiercely it banged across and knocked books and artifacts off the shelves. Then it closed by itself when it rebound back. Albus sighed sadly; he didn't like making an enemy of Harry. Things were becoming quite intense, to say the least. Now he just had to deal with Severus; then he could start his hunt for the Horcruxes when Hogwarts broke off for the summer. Opening his drawer, he took out and sucked on a lemon drop; his plans were going rather well, despite the disturbances and forced hands he'd been dealt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for Jordre and Jakes dedication in editing this story :)


	40. Chapter 40

A New Place To Stay  
Chapter 40   
Leaving Feast & Back To Prince Manor - Back “Home”

For a leaving feast, it sure was subdued, especially the Gryffindor section. Their Head of House was the same, sitting there with her lips pursed at the teachers' table. The Ravenclaws were happy to have won, but the news that Voldemort was back put a damper on everything. However, the most subdued person there had to be Draco Malfoy. His blond hair was like a beacon among the students. Nobody had blond hair quite like the Malfoy family; it was their most recognizable feature, much as one could identify a Weasley by his red hair, freckles, and second-hand clothes. At least that could be said for the younger Weasleys; the older ones all had jobs of their own and new clothes. Most purebloods all looked like their parents.

Draco had received a letter from home just this morning; it wasn't good at all. The Dark Lord had taken up residence in his home; nowhere was safe. Draco didn't know what to do, between his father's expectations and his feelings; added to that now was that monster in his home… he felt completely terrified. There was nowhere for him to go; he was stuck. He had yet to learn that his own father had been identified as a Death Eater and would probably be in Azkaban by the time he got home. This was capped off by the fact it had been the worst year of his life. He'd had detention twice a week all year; he'd deserved it, though. He thanked Merlin for whatever his godfather had done to keep Potter quiet. The thought of Azkaban was enough to make Draco quake in fear.

Ronald Weasley sat in his usual seat, next to Hermione, not eating for once. That sight itself was extremely unusual. He stared at Harry and Neville throughout breakfast. Jealousy and hurt were written across his face. He couldn't believe he'd missed out on an adventure. It had always been Ron, Harry's right-hand man, who got to brag about the harrowing, dangerous trials they'd faced. Instead, this time it had been Fred and George bragging about their stuff and how they'd bat-bogey-hexed You-Know-Who. Despite all the adventures he'd been on, he'd never once set eye on the evil wizard. That day would have been his to shine, to be better than his brothers. To prove himself to everyone, and it would have guaranteed him a spot on the Auror training list.

Normally it would have pissed Ron off to the extreme; instead he just felt sick. He couldn't understand why Harry wasn't forgiving them. He'd forgiven him for his jealousy during their fourth year. All they'd done was what they were told. It had been for Harry's safety, so why was he being so stubborn? He'd expected Harry to forgive them a few weeks into the year. He hadn't expected to be replaced! And by Neville Longbottom, of all people! The red-headed boy was finally beginning to realize what he'd lost, and that he wasn't about to be forgiven, no matter what he did. For a short while he'd followed Harry, knowing it was getting near time for his yearly adventure. Until, of course, Harry had caught him and let it be known that he wasn't going to put up with it.

"You packed, Harry?" Neville asked.

"I always am," Harry said. His voice was filled with worry still, something Neville didn't understand. He'd been greatly subdued lately; he had a feeling it was nothing to do with the fact he'd lost house points. That happened all the time, yet he'd never seen Harry like this before. Harry wasn't in a sharing mood; that was obvious. Neville understood wanting to keep some things to himself. He'd been hurt by his two long-time best friends; it would take a long time before he fully trusted another again. Neville was determined to be that someone, never to betray Harry's trust, but to be there for him when and if he needed it.

"Me too," Neville said. "Luna is coming to mine for half the holiday; are you sure you can't come to mine for a while?"

"I'd love to, Neville, but you know I can't, or I would," Harry replied. "Dumbledore wouldn't allow it."

Neville grimaced; he had noticed for years that Dumbledore paid a lot of attention to Harry. It had only been this year that he realized how deeply it ran. He basically controlled every aspect of Harry's life. Where he went, with whom, when, and how. The Headmaster shouldn't have that much control over his students. It wasn't right; it didn't matter that Harry was a hero. Unfortunately there was nothing either he or Harry could do, at least until the war was over, or Harry was of age― then Dumbledore wouldn't be able to tell Harry what to do.

"Come on, let's go― the carriages will be here in a few minutes. I want to get a decent seat; if we leave now, we can," Harry said getting up. He was, as usual, riding on the train; Severus would pick him up when he got to Kings Cross. He grabbed his trunk, trailing it behind him as Neville ran to catch up with him.

\----------

The train ride had been rather quiet; the most obvious thing was the fact that Draco Malfoy and his goons didn't burst into the compartment trying to stir up trouble, since he wasn't going to be able to for a few months. Both boys and Luna just sat and read their books or asked a few questions. Harry hadn't spoken to Severus, so he didn't know what was happening to Zar. At least he couldn't be put into the Chamber yet; he was still too young.

"That's the train slowing down," Neville remarked, lowering his book to look out of the window.

"It's pitch black out there; there's nothing to see," Harry teased wryly, watching Neville press his face against the glass.

"Worth a try," Neville laughed, glad to see Harry's spirits lifting slightly.

Luna giggled at her boyfriend's antics.

It was ten minutes later that they pulled into Kings Cross Station. The lights illuminated the platform and the parents waiting for their children. It caused Harry's heart to constrict in pain; what would it be like to have someone wave you off? Or be there when you returned? He shook off his maudlin thoughts; he was used to this, so why was it bothering him so much today?

"Harry?" Neville questioned, shaking his head― something was really bothering him today.

"Come on then," Harry said, grabbing his trunk and owl before he and Neville vacated the compartment.

"There's my Gran; are you going to be all right?" Neville asked.

"I'll be fine; both of you go on― I'll talk to you later," Harry smiled, and they hugged one another, promising to stay in touch. Luna and Neville headed over to his grandmother; an image of Severus dressed in her clothes came to mind. Harry smiled in amusement; Neville's fear had probably changed since third year. Shaking off his idle thoughts, he set his trunk on the floor and sat down, watching everyone Apparate, Portkey, or go through the barrier heading home.

The longer he waited, the more his heart sank; Severus had been here for him before this, last year. Was he really angry enough with him to leave him here? Just as Vernon had, appearing hours after the train had come... to let him know how insignificant he was, how much of a burden he was; heaven forbid he actually had to drive to a train station to pick him up. He wrapped his cloak around himself, shivering at the cold seeping into his bones. He regretted not getting something from the trolley now; his stomach was grumbling something awful.

Two hours later, betrayal and hurt were thrumming through him. His eyes were stinging with the tears he refused to let fall. He couldn't believe he'd angered Severus enough for him to do this. He'd only done what he thought was right; this had been his one chance to prove he wasn't a liar. He'd even thought of asking him to come, but he knew Severus' duties as a spy were far too important to risk such a thing. At least the guilt he'd been feeling wasn't present right now.

\------------

Severus sighed gratefully when he Apparated back to his home. He frowned when he realized just how quiet it was. Grimacing in agony, he wobbled all the way to his potions lab. He refused to show pain, show any weakness even if he was alone. He opened his cabinet, cursing himself for not having the right cloak on. He always, always wore a particular cloak to Death Eater meetings, one that had a secret pocket stitched into it. It held a bag with an emergency supply of potions, and a spare wand he had procured in Knockturn Alley years ago. He was a spy; he wasn't stupid enough to think he wouldn't be caught. He took no chances, or never had until today. It so happened that it had been the worst mood he'd seen Voldemort in ever. Not only was he furious, but also curiously magically drained. He took the potions he needed, drinking them, remaining still until they began working. The pain left him immediately, and he was finally able to relax and think straight.

"Rose?" Severus demanded, straightening his spine; the majority of the shaking had stopped. He curled his hands into fists; the shaking in the hands took the longest to disappear. He dreaded the thought of permanent damage due to the Cruciatus curse. He didn’t mean to his mind, but rather to his hands― if he ended up with damaged hands from the Cruciatus curse, he'd never be able to brew again. That would be worse than anything anyone could do to him. It was probably one of his greatest fears; Potions was his life.

"Yes, sir?" Rose said, appearing before her master and staring at him inquiringly.

"Where's Harry?" Severus asked the house-elf.

"Harry?… Master Severus?" Rose asked, her confusion evident. "He is not here."

"What?" Severus barked sharply, his worry starting immediately. He'd told Dumbledore, and damn it, he should be here. Growling under his breath, he dismissed his house-elf before getting himself to the only Apparation spot he had in his house. Since he was a Prince, he could alter the wards as he saw fit. He'd created a spell that would allow him to Apparate in and out at a certain spot. If anyone else tried, he’d be repelled by the wards; if the same magical core was detected three times, the wards would take more drastic action. He Apparated straight onto the platform and shook his head in silent fury. Dumbledore's recklessness knew no bounds. There had been Death Eaters there getting their kids; one of them could have taken Harry. He noticed immediately that Harry was shivering, even his own body was cold. No doubt Harry was going to think this was punishment. As much as it turned his stomach, he realized he was going to have to be truthful.

"Harry," Severus said walking out of the shadows, scanning his surroundings and ensuring no one was there. Grabbing the owl while Harry grabbed his trunk, he held onto the cold teenager and Apparated them to his home.

"You should not have been left waiting; I told Dumbledore I had a meeting to attend," Severus growled angrily. He was momentarily confused by the relief plainly written across Harry's face. He wanted to close his eyes, his thoughts had been correct then... they usually were. "Go have a bath, get warmed up; dinner will be ready by the time you get down here."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, he was beyond relieved that Severus hadn't left him there out of anger. He didn't mind that he was cold, or that Dumbledore had been the one to leave him there. He was just glad it wasn't Severus, otherwise the hurt he was feeling would have been ten times worse.

"You have the same room as before. Head up; Rose will have your things brought up," Severus directed. Tonight hadn't gone the way he’d wanted it to at all. He'd wanted to convey to Harry how upset he was by his actions, that he wasn't going to tolerate Harry’s putting himself in danger. It was what any responsible adult would do if his child did something incredibly stupid. And Harry was his son, at least he thought as much, and he'd treat him as such. Since Harry had come along, things had never gone as planned. Some of it was not Harry's fault, admittedly, but a great deal was. He would still have a long talk with him, that much he was certain about.

Harry ambled up the stairs, the cold already fading, looking around as if he expected the place to have changed. His entire body had relaxed, despite the fact that he knew Severus was still angry about his actions. He didn't need to hide here; he didn't need to be a hero, always to be strong. He was just Harry… and Harry wouldn't have it any other way. He peeked out the window, gaping in awe; his little Potions garden wasn't so little anymore. Opening the door to his room, he found that it was exactly as he’d left it. Letting out a sigh of happiness, he opened his trunk and took out nightwear and his toiletries. As an afterthought, he also let Hedwig out of her cage, opening his window before going to have a bath.

He removed his clothes and both wands before sliding into the steaming water. He'd missed this, he thought to himself. He was finally home; for once Dumbledore's punishment had been anything but.

\----------------

Forty-five minutes later, Harry rejoined Severus, but they were in the dining room now. Both of them were starving, since it was well and truly past dinner time. Asparagus and beef with steamed rice, with a side of chips if they should choose to have some. Dobby served them, obviously having left Hogwarts to join them here once more. Dessert was a selection of soft summer fruits.

"Coffee and hot chocolate in the living room in five minutes, Dobby," Severus said demandingly.

"Yes, sir," Dobby acknowledged, positively delirious with the order.

The living room was only used when Severus made Harry talk about his past. Since they'd covered everything else, he knew what Severus wanted to talk about. This was what he liked about having an adult in his life, having Severus in his life. He let him talk; he wasn't used to that. Nobody had ever just asked him how his day was, never mind what his year was like. The Dursleys couldn't care less; they'd rather gouge out their own eyeballs than listen to him. There was the added bonus that Severus understood him, knew what he was going through. He hoped he was okay; he'd noticed the shaking hands and knew what it was. Voldemort had used his favourite spell, after being humiliated by him and his friends. He winced slightly; so it was his fault Severus had been hurt. No; no, it wasn't, he didn't control what other people did. It seemed what Severus had been telling him had gotten through after all. Severus would have been proud.

\------------

"Why is it that your actions speak louder than your words?" Severus asked as soon as they sat down. He grabbed his mug of strong black coffee, letting Harry have his customary hot chocolate. "You insist you hate the fame, would rather be normal… yet the first chance you get, you break fifty school rules and confront the Dark Lord." The disappointment he felt was in his voice and in his dark onyx eyes.

Harry stared at the floor. He'd known it was coming; he just hadn’t been prepared for that much disappointment. It made him feel that he'd lost Severus' respect, and his understanding. Swallowing thickly, he knew he had to speak the truth, otherwise it would just anger Severus. "I had a vision; it wasn't normal… I had enough sleep, but during my History of Magic test I felt exhausted. It wasn't like normal exhaustion either… it was different, as if I was being influenced," Harry finally got to tell him.

Severus sat up straight, frowning, yet alarmed as he stared at Harry. "Go on," he demanded, paying attention to each word Harry said.

"I went straight into the vision, I didn't dream first. One minute I was doing the exam, the next second my scar was burning like hot coals were being applied to it. Then the vision began; I saw that Vol…" He stopped there, remembering everything Severus had told him. Now that he was back, he really did have to watch what he said. Then there was the fact the Dark Mark burned whenever someone said it. "He was there, torturing Sirius, demanding that he lift 'it'. The same place I was seeing when I had my other visions― the Ministry."

He hurried on, seeing the look of incredulity written across Severus' face; no doubt he had a scathing retort on the tip of his tongue. "I knew it was a trap; I knew he'd send others to get it… I didn't expect HIM to show up!" he cried indignantly. "I just wanted them to learn he was back! To understand, so they have a fighting chance."

"So you think you’re good enough to face fully grown Death Eaters, do you?" asked Severus, his eyes flashing with an undecipherable emotion. Whatever it was, though, it made Harry's stomach tighten in dread.

"Er, no," squeaked Harry, his green eyes going wide. He did not like the look on Severus' face. It did not bode well for him; he had a feeling he was going to learn something he wasn't about to forget any time soon.

"No?" echoed Severus with deceptive mildness. "Then pray tell: how did you plan on fighting them?"

"I planned on trapping them, it's why I asked the Weasley twins," Harry rushed to explain. "With their swamps... they were stuck, the world knows he's back; it's a good thing, right?" he trailed off almost unsurely. Would Severus understand why he'd done it? He hoped so.

Severus sighed, "It is a good thing, and unfortunately it doesn't excuse you risking your life. Tomorrow morning I'm going to show you why it was a bad idea," he said, his voice changing by the end.

Harry gulped, his eyes wider than saucers. What did Severus mean by that? He wouldn't hurt him? No, he knew Severus wouldn't intentionally hurt him… suddenly he wished he could turn back time… keep on redoing his last two days at Hogwarts forever. "What do you mean?" he ventured, no sign of the Slytherin in him coming to the forefront.

"You'll find out," Severus said. He was being purposely vague; he wanted Harry to dread it. Perhaps then he'd think before doing something so incredibly stupid.

Harry almost pouted, but he knew Severus; if he wasn't going to tell him, then he wouldn't. He hated facing the unknown; perhaps he shouldn't have eaten so much, since it was currently rolling around in his stomach. "He told me about the prophecy."

"Really?" Severus asked wryly, musing quietly to himself. He hadn't expected Dumbledore ever to tell him. He could see why, though; since Dumbledore thought the Dark Lord knew, he would think that he should be the one to tell him, not let him find out through the Dark Lord or by any other means.

"He isn't going to train me; he never had any intentions of doing it, either," Harry said, his voice hoarse, showing he was more affected by Dumbledore than he let on. "All he said to me when I told him I couldn't do magic like he could, he just said I'd find a way." The green eyes which had been full of apprehension just moments ago were filled with betrayal and hurt.

"Dumbledore is probably convinced that your mother's protection will somehow defeat the Dark Lord," Severus remarked, curling his lip in contempt. Dumbledore no doubt thought that love, or friendship, was the power the Dark Lord knew not. Only Dumbledore could think something so insipid. No, he was sure the power the Dark Lord knew not was something to do with the wands. The connection of the brother wands, or Harry's new wand. There was a connection there, there had to be a reason why Slytherin's son kept showing up so much.

"If it did… what would he do to me?" Harry asked. "Do you think he actually has the guts to kill me for the ‘greater good'? Or would he just drive me to killing myself?" His voice was dry, bitter, and filled with disgust. He hated those words, “the greater good;” they made him want to puke.

"That will not matter, Harry; it won't happen. I will find a way to remove the Horcrux, I promise," Severus said, his voice curt and filled with confidence in his own abilities. If anyone had a right to brag, it was this man. He'd been creating spells since he was fifteen years old, and he was the youngest Potions Master in the world. Nobody had surpassed him yet, and he doubted anyone would. Not in his lifetime anyway, that was for sure.

"If that's the case, why hasn't he tried?" asked Harry.

"He wouldn't risk it," Severus eventually said, sighing at the conversation. He didn't like saying things like that to his son anymore. Unfortunately, he wasn't a man to hide the truth; in fact, if anything Severus was brutally honest. He knew it was something Harry relied on, so he vowed never to stop, even if his words upset him; he had told Harry he wasn't going to mollycoddle him, and it was true.

"No, I don't suppose he would," Harry eventually agreed, putting his now empty cup on the table. "Did you bring Zar?"

"Indeed," Severus smirked wryly. Too bad he couldn't feed Pettigrew to it; then again, Zar hadn't done anything to deserve the digestive upset that would follow ingesting Pettigrew. Speaking of the rat, he was currently at his old house in Spinners End. It had taken all his will power not to kill the bastard where he stood. He'd killed his Lily; if not for him, the woman he'd loved would have been alive.

"What are we doing this summer?" Harry asked curiously, "Are we brewing?" He really wanted to brew a potion that he wouldn't have to actually blow up.

"I won't be here as often as I was last year," warned Severus "But yes, the quicker I get the potions for the hospital wing done, the better. Between training and searching, you will be extremely busy."

"Searching?" Harry asked, hope blooming, "You mean for the Horcruxes?"

"Yes; I have a few ideas about areas we can check; any you can think of, let me know," Severus answered smoothly.

"Where do you plan on checking?" Harry asked, sitting forward, eager to help in any way he could. This was what he wanted, a plan of action, not just sitting about while Voldemort got stronger, waiting for him to come and inevitably try to kill him.

"The orphanage where he grew up, then all the houses he could have had access to," Severus smoothly replied.

"Houses?" Harry asked, he had a feeling Severus wasn't talking about the school houses at Hogwarts. Then the thought struck him, "He could have one at Hogwarts, staring us in the face."

"It's possible; he had an unhealthy obsession with anything related to any of the founders," Severus said bluntly. "He murdered his own father, so I'm going to start at the house there. Then I'm going to check the Gaunt house."

"Gaunt?" asked Harry.

"His mother's last name, she was a Gaunt; due to the in-breeding, the line died out," Severus said, curling his lip in disgust. "Know your enemy, Harry; only then can you hope to succeed."

"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer," Harry murmured.

"Indeed, it's good advice," Severus said sharply. "Now go to bed, you have a long day ahead of you tomorrow."

Harry grimaced at the reminder, causing Severus to smirk at him.

"Night," Harry said, getting up and making his way up the stairs.

Severus watched Harry go, shaking his head in exasperation. So much for the scolding he'd planned. Well, there was one thing; things were never boring with Harry Potter around. Sighing tiredly, he went to his potions lab to take another dose of Anti-Cruciatus potion. He stalked up the stairs in his normal fashion, checking on Harry to find he'd gone straight to bed. Nodding in satisfaction, he went to his own room, climbed into his bed, and promptly fell asleep. They had an early start tomorrow; they needed all the time they could get—which, unfortunately, didn't leave much time to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to my two wonderful editors Jake and Jordre for their dedication in editing this story


	41. Chapter 41

A New Place To Stay  
Chapter 41   
Training, Brewing and Dealing With Life

 

Harry woke up abruptly, his breathing harsh and rushed. Even as he groggily sat up, the dream was already fading from his mind. Grabbing his wand from the bedside table, he ensured it was his extra one before casting the spell. It wasn't even five o'clock in the morning yet. Just remembering Severus' words from yesterday made his stomach twist and turn. What did the man have in mind? He knew, nonetheless, that he'd never hurt him. Pretty ironic really, since just last year, he'd feared the Cruciatus Curse would be used on him. He'd thought he was perhaps safer with Vernon Dursley; it was truly laughable to him now. So much had happened; so much had changed since then. For once in his life, Harry had confidence in his own abilities― he felt he might actually survive Voldemort's attacks. Getting up, he dressed in loose-fitting clothes; he didn't have many anymore, now that he was being fed properly, and on a diet that was right for him. The weight he'd put on was good for him. He didn't bother showering; there was no point, since he was going for a run. As he left the room and headed down the stairs, he realized he'd need to buy toiletries soon. He was running low, after being at Hogwarts all year.

He ran for a while before stopping at the stables; he'd never ventured in there. He opened the door curiously, ignoring the sweat that drenched him and his clothes. He saw the animals... was that an Abraxan? Alternatively known as Palominos― he had read about them in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. They were much bigger than he remembered them. He had always been under the impression they needed a firm “handler.” He idly wondered if these also drank single malt whisky like the ones from France did. Stepping forward to the stall, he smiled softly, placing his hand palm up for the animal to sniff. Once the animal determined Harry wasn't a threat, he allowed the teenager to pet him. Feeling the muscles under the hair was mind-boggling; they truly were strong and powerful. He certainly wouldn't stand a chance against one of them.

"You are beautiful, aren't you," Harry murmured, stroking the horse in quiet awe.

"Master Harry," Rose said, looking and sounding surprised to see him there.

"Hello, Rose," Harry said, smiling at her as he continued to pet the animal before him. "I thought these animals needed strict handling?" he asked her, turning to face her. Curiosity was written in his gleaming green eyes. His thoughts about what might happen this morning were all but gone.

"Normally they do, Master Harry," Rose agreed, magicking away the mess that had been dropped in the stall overnight before placing fresh bedding and hay in their proper places. She must do it a lot because she did it with efficiency and speed.

"Normally?" Harry enquired as he stepped out of the way, not wanting to interrupt her work. Harry had never seen House-Elves as slaves; he respected them all, even if they sometimes tried to seriously injure him. There was no doubt he was fond of Dobby; he was glad the little elf was staying with them. He'd been very handy to have around, especially in the Ministry of Magic.

"Master Severus saved her," was all Rose would say on that matter.

"Is it the same for the rest?" Harry asked, very surprised.

"Yes, sir," Rose said as she fed them. There weren't just Abraxans, but normal horses, Pegasi, Thestrals, Aethonon, and a Hippogriff. The stable was huge, and there were free stalls available, which was surprising, given the number of animals currently housed in here. He grinned at seeing such a small creature tossing a Hippogriff dead ferrets. These animals were all extremely useful, producing various potion ingredients, but he couldn't imagine Severus keeping them just for that reason.

Suddenly Dobby popped in, surprising Rose, who stared at him in confusion; it was her turn to feed the animals today. "Master Severus requires your presence, Master Potter," Dobby said. Rose relaxed and went back to work.

"Thanks, Dobby," Harry said, wishing he had a watch; it just wasn't the same using a spell to get the time. Blame it on his upbringing; perhaps it was time to get one. "Bye, Rose," he said, closing the stable door as quietly as possible, not wanting to disturb the animal. As he walked back to the Manor, he wondered what Rose meant by “save.” He silently made a vow to visit the other buildings to see what else he'd uncover.

"How long have you been up?" Severus asked as soon as Harry walked into the kitchen. It was where they always sat first thing in the morning.  
"An hour or so," Harry said, sliding into a seat; breakfast was already served.

"Vision or nightmare?" Severus asked. His voice might be gruff, but Harry knew he was concerned. Whether he was or not wouldn't matter, because he cared enough to ask. To Harry it meant the world, since nobody had cared enough even to ask his entire life.

"Neither, I don't think; I can't remember," Harry truthfully replied after swallowing some pancakes drizzled with maple syrup.

"Very well," Severus said, drinking his black coffee while Harry finished his breakfast. He'd been surprised when he'd called for Dobby to wake Harry, only to learn he was already up. He'd gotten up earlier than normal, which was what they'd planned. He was worried about the connection Harry had to the Dark Lord. His mind whirled at the ramifications of such a bond. He was terrified Voldemort might be able to influence Harry much more than anyone could predict. The forced tiredness wasn't something to dismiss easily. Either that, or someone in that hall had cast a spell, which on some level he preferred. It was saying a lot, because Severus did not want his students becoming Death Eaters, though he'd rather that than the Dark Lord being able to affect Harry. Not just because he cared deeply about the youth, but because if he did it during a battle, all would be lost. Harry was very good at Occlumency, especially for a young boy who'd only been at it less than year.

"What are we doing first?" Harry asked, pushing his plate away from him. It was, as always now, empty. It came as no surprise to those that knew Harry, since he'd been starved the majority of his childhood.

"Drinking this," Severus said, handing over an oddly coloured potion.

"What is it?" Harry asked, removing the stopper; he'd never seen anything like it before. He might not be an expert brewer, but he knew the colours of most potions, at least the ones he'd read about in books. Sniffing it, he realized it didn't smell too bad, but he knew that was deceiving. Potions could smell nice but be utterly disgusting to consume. Then again, most Muggle medicine tasted horrible, too.

"One that will help you with your height," Severus said, blunt as he always was. He sat watching Harry drink the potion without another word. It was much stronger than the one created by Master Wiltsworth a century ago. Wiltsworth's would help the normal teenager go through a growth spurt, but that was useless to Harry; the potion Severus had created would overcome the years of malnutrition Harry's body had suffered. Neither of Harry's parents had been this short at his age. He had gotten taller, but without this potion, it would be as tall as he'd get.

"Didn't taste too bad," Harry murmured, mostly to himself, as he drank the remaining orange juice in the goblet, washing the lingering taste out of his mouth; he then turned his attention back to Severus.

"Come," Severus said, smoothly getting up. Harry was truly envious of the grace Severus had. Even coming through the Floo or Apparating, he looked as if he'd just been standing there. He couldn't remember what he was like on a broom, though, he'd been too worried to pay attention. The only time Harry was graceful was on his broom... if nothing was after him.

\-----------

They spent the entire morning brewing the mandatory potions for the Hospital wing. The potions that took the longest were being done by Severus; he was brewing three different cauldrons of them. Harry on the other hand was barely managing two. One of them was slightly off in colour because he'd taken too long to add his next ingredients. Thankfully, though, the potions could still be used at their full strength.

"Bottle and label them," Severus said, giving them a once-over before going back to his own cauldrons.

Harry did as he was instructed; he received no praise, but he knew they were perfect. Otherwise Severus would have banished them; Severus didn't accept anything other than the best. He used his best handwriting to write the labels out, wondering idly as he did so if Poppy recognized his handwriting. He'd been in her classes all year, and done numerous essays, all of them pertaining to certain spells, potions, and the anatomy. The first spell she'd taught them was the diagnostic spell. It had taken them a while to get it. You needed to pour magic into it, so you'd get not just the primary injury, but all injuries.

"Can I brew the number nine pain reliever?" Harry asked once he was finished, lining the vials up in the rack where they remained until a House-Elf transported them to the hospital wing.

"No; we are finished with brewing… for now," Severus said smoothly, casting shields on his potions before nodding in satisfaction. Harry then followed Severus through the manor, and out into the daylight.

"Where's Zar?" Harry asked; he'd not seen his familiar for days. He was slightly worried about him.

"I have no idea; roaming the grounds, I would assume. I have no doubt there are plenty of rats to be eaten," Severus said, smirking wryly. "Wand out," he demanded once they'd stopped. Harry stared at him warily as he did as he was told, the words from last night once again going through his mind.

"Duel," Severus commanded, his black eyes glinting in a way that made Harry want to run and hide. Instead he squared his shoulders, let out a breath and quickly fired off his first spell.

"Expelliarmus!"

Instead of using a shield, Severus sent it back to him. Harry went flying, falling with an ungraceful thump on his back. He groaned but forced himself back up into a sitting position, staring indignantly at Severus.

"Stop using that spell. You are so predictable; being predictable will get you killed, do you understand me?" Severus snapped, in full teacher mode.

"What?" Harry cried, not understanding what Severus was getting at.

"Expelliarmus is your signature spell; if a Death Eater came face to face with you... you'd already be dead. Stop using the spell; that spell shouldn't be the first thing on your mind!" Severus said less harshly. "It's the one you used against the Dark Lord, isn't it?"

"Well, yes," Harry admitted, his mind mulling over everything he'd just been told. Well, it was true; the first spell he always tried was the disarming charm, but it had been the first defensive spell he'd learned, so what did he expect? "Do you have one?"

"I did," Severus said, his eyes going dark in remembrance of his youth; now Lestrange liked to use it, much to his disgust and horror. Each death she caused with it, made him feel infinitely responsible.

"All right," Harry said, standing back up, an air of determination and strength surrounding him.

"Confringo!" Harry yelled, deciding on a blasting curse.

Severus merely twitched his wand and it evaporated as he kept watching Harry with hawk eyes.

"Incarcerous! Petrificus Totalus!" Harry cried, sending both spells one after the other.

Severus once again just countered both spells.

"Locomotor Mortis!" "Levicorpus!" "Stupefy!" Harry yelled, getting angry.

Severus countered them all, before blasting Harry of his feet once more before he knew what was happening.

"Do not engage in fights where they don't fight back. They are just tiring you out, waiting for you to exhaust yourself magically so you are easy pickings!" Severus said, lecturing poor Harry, who was once again getting to his feet.

Then the real duel began, at least as real as Severus was going to make it. He wanted to get his points across, not permanently hurt Harry. Unfortunately, he was going to be bruised by the end of tonight, the number of times he'd fallen on his backside. Severus was giving him no leeway. None of Harry's spells had hit Severus yet.

"Shit," Harry swore, wincing as the cutting curse grazed his arm. He was once more on the ground, sweat pouring off him, magically drained and completely exhausted.

"Now did you seriously think you could have taken on those Death Eaters?" Severus asked, stalking forward.

"You've made your point," Harry said, panting as he tried to get himself to his feet.

"I am not doing this because I want to, Harry, I'm doing it because I must," Severus told him. He helped Harry up, pulling a pain reliever from his robes. Pulling out the stopper he put it in Harry's good hand. With one swift movement the cut on Harry's arm disappeared as if it hadn't been there at all. "I am impressed; you remained standing through the Electro curse," he admitted as they walked towards the manor.

"It's nothing on the Cruciatus curse," Harry reflected; the Electro curse was a very mild pain spell. It caused pulses of electric current to zap through the body; to anyone unused to pain, it would have hurt.

Severus remained quiet; Harry couldn’t tell whether he agreed or disagreed.

"Go shower; dinner will be ready by the time you get out," Severus said in his normal demanding voice.

"All right," Harry acceded, hopping up the stairs. He ached all over. It hadn't been as bad as he'd thought it would, though. He'd certainly learnt something over the course of the past two hours.

\-------------

It was now night time; they'd eaten their dinner in silence, too exhausted and preoccupied to talk. They were currently sitting in the living room and reading; the fire roaring away kept the chill the Manor had at night at bay. Severus had dropped three Defence books into his lap earlier, demanding he read them. Harry had no problem with that; one of them was Dark versus Light magic. He had yet to read it, though it was next on the list. Zar was lying on the rug snoring away... or was he purring? It was hard to tell, even for a Parselmouth.

"Give me an example of the difference between dark and light magic," Severus suddenly said. Harry looked up over his book to see Severus regarding him with a small smirk.

"That's a trick question," Harry said.

"Is it?" Severus slyly asked.

"I think so," Harry replied, now unsure.

"Give me an example of a pure light spell," Severus said once more.  
"A Healing charm," Harry said eventually.

"Well done," Severus smirked, impressed, "Now give me an example of a known light spell that can be dangerous."

"How can a light spell be dangerous? It wouldn't be a light spell if it was," Harry protested defensively.

"Really?" Severus enquired, seemingly interested in getting into a heated debate with his son.

"Well it's true…it wouldn't be light if it was dangerous," Harry said, exasperated.

"Very well, are you trying to tell me you can think of no light spell that could be dangerous? Put aside all pre-conceived notions… everything you've learned or been told, and think about it, Harry," Severus directed.

Harry frowned, but did as he was told; it seemed Severus was really in the mood to teach him today. Had he not been taught enough? His mind was bloody blown away. All he had learned was useless; he couldn't keep up with Severus, never mind a Death Eater who could have killed him. The tongue-lashing Severus had given him last night had never been truer. He was in no way, shape, or form able to take on Death Eaters. Another lesson learned. Shaking off his thoughts, he began thinking of light spells that could grievously harm someone. Ironically enough, his first flying lesson came to mind; then it hit him like a ton of bricks. "The levitating charm," Harry said sheepishly.

"Indeed," Severus said.

The pride in his voice made Harry flush; he'd never get too old to hear that. The sound of someone being proud of him was all he'd ever wanted. Coming from this man, it meant a lot. 

"Any others?"

"All spells are dangerous, depending on where you are, what circumstances you are in. The tripping jinx at the top of the stairs or on a cliff... same with the blasting spell. If you left the tickling jinx on someone you could kill them," Harry said, on a roll as he realized Severus did have a point… was any spell truly light?

"Exactly. You cannot let yourself be drawn into the light versus dark debate, not in war," Severus said. "Every spell you threw at me was considered light, Harry, and every Death Eater knows how to defend against them," he warned him.

Harry nodded, deep in thought.

"This is a harder one: can you give me an example where the killing curse could be considered light?" Severus asked.

"Nobody deserves to die," Harry said automatically. Even Voldemort; he didn't want to be a murderer, but he knew he had no choice in the matter. It was either him or Voldemort, and not because of the prophecy. Well, maybe indirectly, because that was why Voldemort kept coming after him.

"No? What about a dying animal? Is it not better to give it a humane death than watch it suffer for days, maybe weeks?" Severus pointed out, finally putting his book away and staring intently at Harry. "How about someone who's stuck in their own mind? Not even able to do the simplest task without aid? Or someone with an incurable disease, watching them waste away?" Or someone that was being tortured to death, he added to himself. He was guilty of that himself; he loathed torture and preferred just to end their misery. Thankfully, as a spy for Dumbledore, he didn't go on raids or participate in torture.

"All right, all right, you win," Harry said somewhat grumpily.

"Harry," Severus remonstrated sternly, "it's not about me winning; I am trying to teach you to survive."

"I know," Harry said contritely, but his mind was bursting with all this new information. Plus he was dead on his feet, figuratively; he just wanted to sleep.

"Good. I can understand if you are feeling overwhelmed, but I do not have the time. We have too much to do this summer to do it as I would like," Severus solemnly explained. Between Order meetings, Death Eater meetings, brewing for the Dark Lord, brewing for Poppy, and training Harry, he wasn't going to have long to look for the Horcruxes. If he was busy during the school year, it was nothing on his summers... and he'd thought last year was busy.

"I know," Harry said, nodding his head tiredly.

"Good; go to bed. It's an early one again tomorrow." Getting up early was the only way they were going to get everything he wanted to do, done. "Would you like another pain reliever?" Severus asked after seeing how delicately Harry was moving. He'd not seen him do that since he'd first set foot in his manor.

"No, I'll be fine," Harry said; plus it would help him remember how stupid he'd been. In all honesty, he'd received worse, and the bruises weren't that painful. He hissed goodnight to Zar as he left. His heart lurched; he was going to miss the snake dearly. He had, as of yet, failed to find anything to let him keep his snake with him. He couldn't, no, wouldn't put him in the Chamber; Zar didn't deserve that. He was beginning to understand, though, why Slytherin had been made to put his basilisk down there. Zar was just getting too big! He took up half the room; soon he wouldn't fit through the doors of Prince Manor. He vowed to look and search harder, even if it meant not sleeping. He'd find something… he just had to.

"Very well," Severus said, following Harry up the stairs. He had a quick shower before sliding into his own bed. He was slightly surprised not to have been called, especially if Pettigrew had moaned about him never being at Spinners End. He was simply going to tell the Dark Lord he was at Hogwarts. Since there were no children and none of his spies there now, he was safe from detection. He'd never tell the Dark Lord about this place. The Dark Lord liked to use their homes, Malfoy Manor especially, which was where he was right now. Prince Manor had been standing long before Malfoy Manor, which meant the wards were older and stronger. No; the Dark Lord could remain under the assumption that he liked living in that disgusting, run-down Muggle house, for all he cared. The Dark Lord would never set foot in it; at least he never had, anyway. As he tried to sleep, his thoughts were heavy about many different things: the Horcrux inside Harry, the Horcruxes out there, the war, Dumbledore's insistence on not training Harry, the growing influence the Horcrux was having on his son, and the thought of dealing with Pettigrew. So it was no surprise his sleep was an uneasy one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Jake and Jordre for editing this chapter :)


	42. Chapter 42

A New Place To Stay  
Chapter 42  
Digging For Information

Harry jumped awake, his heart pounding; he groggily looked around, wondering what the hell had happened. Then it happened once more: a knock on his door. He realized it had to be Severus, nobody else knocked at the door. The house-elves just popped in and woke you up; they had no concept of privacy. Getting up, he shivered at the cold; the house hadn't even warmed up yet― it must be very early. He opened the door to find Severus fully dressed and seemingly wide awake. "Breakfast in twenty minutes," Severus said in his normal demanding voice.

"What time is it?" Harry asked; there wasn't even daylight peaking through his bedroom window yet.

"Five thirty," Severus said, smirking sardonically at his bedraggled-looking son, especially his hair. It was getting longer and a lot less messy, but it was still bad. Potter had made it messy on purpose, insisting that was how the girls liked it. Lily hadn't though; she'd absolutely loathed Potter and his fellow miscreants until…. no, he wasn't going to think about them, or about Lily. That was harder than one would think, however. For once it wasn't Harry's fault―no, it was Pettigrew. The fact that he was housing Pettigrew made him feel as if he were betraying Lily all over again.

"Why so early?" Harry murmured, still half asleep as he leaned against the doorway, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The cold was still there, making him shiver; he was suddenly all too eager to get his clothes on. Cold had never bothered him before; a few years ago, it had been all he knew. There’d been no warmth to be had in his cupboard, or in the bedroom the Dursleys had given him. They'd done something to the radiator to stop the heat from working. Heat wasn't for freaks like him; they didn't waste a penny on him.

"I told you we have a lot to do," Severus said, "Get dressed before you catch a cold." Then he walked, or rather stalked, off. His robes billowed out around him, as they always did.

Harry watched him go, his lips twitching at the sight of it. Even when he'd hated Severus, he'd always admired how his robes did that. He had thought it was a spell or something to begin with. It was dramatic, and it added to his persona as the dungeon bat, with them swooping out like that. Seeing it now, it obviously wasn't a spell; he had no image to keep up here. It was probably why Harry loved being here so much; he didn't have to play “the Boy-Who-Lived.” Even with his own godfather, he had to play a role, although it was more geared to reminding him of his father. Harry's heart jerked just remembering Sirius' words. Back then he'd been hurt, deeply wounded to hear Sirius say that to him. What kind of godfather said something like that to a boy who'd never had the chance to know his parents? He was less like his father than Sirius thought. Back then he'd thought his father was the best, a Quidditch player, bright, successful, and good at Transfiguration; he'd died for his family. James wasn't without his faults, although nobody other than Severus had told him about them. Even Dumbledore had misled him, saying Severus was bitter because of a life debt. He'd accepted it then as the truth; how stupid he had been. There were two sides to every story; he should have realized that sooner. Shaking off his depressing thoughts, he ran to his wardrobe and quickly got dressed, realising he'd probably stood there for ten minutes just thinking. Once he was dressed, he made a quick dash, wondering what they'd be doing today.

It seemed Severus wasn't the only one thinking about Lily and James today.

"What are we doing today?" Harry asked, sliding into his seat and finding another potion at the table. It was the same one he'd drunk yesterday; he wondered briefly if it would help him get any taller. He realized he should have more faith in Severus' potion-making abilities. He wasn't the youngest Potions Master in the world for nothing. He uncorked the vial and drank it without being told. His stomach glowed with the approving look on Severus' face; he'd never get too old for that.

"We are visiting the orphanage," Severus smoothly said, before taking another drink of coffee. He was, quite simply put, exhausted. The potion he'd taken was only a temporary measure; he'd feel even more exhausted in a few hours. The coffee was going to do pretty much the same thing. His dreams had not been pretty at all; green eyes glaring at him was enough to make him feel hurt. There were only two people who had ever gotten past Severus' defences; both of them had green eyes, and he had betrayed them both. Despite what Harry said, he still felt responsible, and he doubted that would ever change.

"How do you know where it is?" Harry asked, impressed.

Severus smirked wryly, "Hogwarts gets rid of nothing, and the acceptance letter was among the Slytherin papers." Slughorn might have been the Head of House back then, but it changed nothing. They were put into drawers and forgotten about; nothing in that castle was thrown out.

"Slytherin papers?" Harry asked in confusion, as he ate his scrambled eggs and hastily finished his orange juice; Severus was already finished and waiting for him. There was so much about Hogwarts he didn't know. Then again, it wasn't his job to know. He was a student, not a teacher.

"Indeed. Each House has them; once they are sorted, the Head of House gets them, as well as a copy of Poppy's reports if they end up in the hospital wing. There is also a copy of their classes, attendance sheets, and O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. scores," Severus calmly stated after debating whether to tell Harry or not, but he realized the information couldn't hurt him.

"Oh. They do something like that in Muggle primary school, although it goes to the Head," Harry said, nodding in understanding.

"Perhaps Hogwarts did it that way also, back in the day, but there are so many students that they had to divide them up. A Head of House sees their students a lot more than the Headmaster does," Severus told him as the house-elves came and took their dishes away.

"Makes sense," Harry said, nodding his head as he stood up. He didn't so much as flinch when Severus raised his wand. A year ago he would have dove for cover if he'd done such a thing. He felt goosebumps going down him as his appearance changed. Severus then used the spell on himself, his outward appearance changing again. Long, bleach-blond hair, a yellow shirt, and Hawaiian-looking shorts and sandals. Harry would have laughed, but he had a feeling he looked the same. He remembered what Severus had told him, back then while learning the charm himself. "Always go for the opposite of what you truly look like; don't just change your appearance a little bit. If they so much as suspect it's you, then your cover is blown." As always, he told him that in the grave, death-becomes-you voice he used when teaching. "Let's go," he said. Taking hold of Harry, he Apparated them where they wanted to go. A frown soon appeared on Severus' face as he looked around; finding a signpost, he became despondent.

"Doesn't look like there's an orphanage nearby," Harry said, looking around with interest.

"Evidently the orphanage no longer exists; we will never know if he created one here or not." Severus said, a sneer twisted on his lips. He was very unhappy about this turn of events.

"We need to get out of here," Harry said, shivering; he could feel it in his bones already. He didn't know why, but he was extremely aware of Dementors. He just knew it wasn't the cold seeping into his bones.

"Why?" Severus asked, arching an eyebrow at his son and wondering what was wrong. He wasn't clutching at his scar, so it wasn't Voldemort.

"Dementors," Harry said, shivering violently now; he could feel them― they were closer now.

Severus became alarmed, quite rightfully so, and immediately grabbed Harry again before disappearing on the spot. He didn't care if the Muggles saw them; his son came first. He did not want to encounter the Dementors again, not after last time. He'd nearly lost Harry; he himself had almost been Kissed. As they landed in Prince Manor once more, Severus realized Voldemort must have them on his side already. That was not good; the war was advancing a lot more quickly than anticipated.

"So what now?" Harry asked. He wasn't happy either; he'd been hoping they were on the right path to gathering the remaining Horcruxes, although it was some consolation that the locket had been destroyed, the one he'd found in Grimmauld Place. One in Malfoy Manor, one in Grimmauld Place. Both were homes of Death Eaters; perhaps that was where they should be looking.

"Master Severus?" asked a house-elf Harry wasn't familiar with as he popped in.

"Why don't you go to the library, Harry? Perhaps some more information is needed on Tom Riddle to find out where these Horcruxes are." Severus smoothly suggested.

Harry looked between Severus and the house-elf; he didn't know why, but he was hurt that he was being left out. It was probably the first time Severus had ever done so since they’d started getting on so well.

"This has nothing to do with the war, Horcruxes, or even you, Harry, so wipe that look from your face and go up the stairs," Severus said honestly, shaking his head in amusement; Harry was like an open book, regardless of whether he'd learned Occlumency or not.

"Yes sir," Harry said sheepishly, feeling all kinds of foolish that Severus could still read him so easily.

Once he was sure Harry was off in the direction he was supposed to be, he turned to Jasmine and said, "Speak,"

"Two people came to the door," Jasmine reported. She was following the orders Severus had set out for her. She and Violet had been staking out her Master's home in Spinner’s End invisibly. She had the night shift, which had just ended, and here she was, informing her Master of what had happened. She had been instructed only to come to him if anyone came nearby that wasn't Pettigrew.

"Who?" Severus demanded with a frown, unsettled by this visit.

"Bellatrix and Narcissa," the elf replied. She'd overheard their conversation; that was the only reason she knew their names. She had heard of Bellatrix; one of the elves her Master had rescued had been hers. It had taken years for the head elf to get her better. She had also been renamed; all of them had. Master Severus was the best Master in the world, and better still, they were free.

"Do you know why?" Severus asked in alarm.

"I'm not sure, Master Severus, but Mister Draco was mentioned a few times," Jasmine replied.

Severus thought about it. She had evidently not spoken to her husband; he was the only one that knew about Prince Manor. Not that he could tell anyone about it; he had ensured that. He was also now in Azkaban after letting himself be caught, by his son no less, he thought with a feral smirk. He still didn't approve of Harry's actions, but he was nevertheless proud of the fact that he'd managed to pull it off without a single curse being cast. So she was keeping something from him, and wanting to help her son. His heart sank; Draco was going to come back to Hogwarts with the Mark. So Narcissa had obviously been coming to him for help; did she suspect he wasn't a Death Eater? Or was it just because Draco was his godson? Damn Lucius to hell; his getting caught had ignited the Dark Lord's anger, evidently. His godson was doomed because of the actions of his father. He didn't normally Mark new Death Eaters so early; perhaps there was hope yet to see his godson saved. The Dark Lord would give Draco an impossible task, one doomed to fail. He knew the Dark Lord all too well; this was not good at all. He felt trapped; it was worse than he'd originally thought.

"You may go," Severus said, realizing the house-elf was still standing there.

Bowing slightly, Jasmine left her Master and went to bed; Violet, no doubt, would already be there.

Severus sat down, closing his eyes warily; dark times were already descending upon them. Just who was Draco tasked to kill? He prayed it wasn't Harry; he would hate to do to Draco what he'd done to Umbridge, but nobody hurt his son without consequence. But no, it was possible the Dark Lord wanted that task for himself. To prove he could kill him, that the Dark Lord was better. Well, not if he had anything to say about it, Harry would survive; he would have a family and raise them as his own parents should have done with him.

A ping alerted him to the fact his Floo had activated. Sighing in irritation, he made his way to the sitting room. "Albus? What can I do for you?" Severus asked, standing there staring at Dumbledore impassively. If it wasn't for the war, he'd let the old fool know what he thought of him. Imagine, sending a child to be abused for the greater good; the Dark Lord wasn't the only one Severus knew all too well. It was a good thing he was Dumbledore's spy, or Dumbledore wouldn't have been alive right now.

"Ah, Severus; how are things?" Dumbledore asked, trying to nose around. Too bad for the old fool he couldn't Floo directly into his house. He had wards set against it; if someone tried, he would end up with a splitting sore head and arse when the Floo Network rejected him. One could only Floo or Apparate in with permission, which Dumbledore didn't have right now.

"Fine," Severus said, curling his lip in disgust. Too bad the old fool would merely think it was aimed at his son.

"Tell me, have you started your potion lessons for this year?" Dumbledore asked; his eyes were twinkling even in the fire. It was only disconcerting, so Dumbledore was manipulating again.

"No; I have been brewing the potions for the Hospital wing since school ended," Severus said, which had been only two days ago, he reminded himself. He wondered what Dumbledore could possibly want.

"Then hold off on that; with any luck, I may have a new Potions teacher this year," Dumbledore said, positively beaming at Severus through the fire.

Disbelief tore through Severus; he couldn't believe it, after all those years of asking for the job, he was getting it now. He knew without Dumbledore’s having to tell him; he wasn't by any means a stupid man. Dumbledore wouldn't let his spy be anywhere else other than at his side. He was finally getting the Defence Against the Dark Arts job after all those years of applying for it. "Who?" he demanded; he was actually possessive of his labs, and did not like the thought of others getting their grubby little paws on them.

"You will know him; he taught you, after all," Dumbledore said smugly. He knew that, with Harry at his side, he could convince Horace to come back.

"Horace Slughorn?" Severus asked, his stomach rebelling at the thought of his son learning from that incompetent fool. He would learn nothing from the man; everything he'd learned, he had taught himself. Which reminded him― the book. It would help Harry. He was very good at potions, and that had been without his help. The potions during sixth- and seventh-year were much more complicated, and required deviating from the actual instructions. Again he had learned that on his own, scribbling the actual actions in the margins. Slughorn cared more about befriending students that would prove beneficial to him... Severus wanted to close his eyes in fury, but forced his face to stay impassive as rage boiled through him. He had no doubt who Dumbledore was going to dangle in front of Slughorn's face to get him to teach. He was using his son… again. No doubt this would turn Harry's stomach also. Harry hated being used because of his fame; he hated his fame even more.

"Indeed," said Dumbledore looking proud of himself. "Which means you should get the Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons planned; I shall also need to know in two weeks which books you require for each year, so they can be added to the list of things the students need for the upcoming term."

"Very well," Severus said, barely able to stop himself from gritting his teeth painfully.

"Excellent; I shall see you soon, my boy," Dumbledore beamed, disconnecting himself from the Floo.

A grimace twisted against Severus' face as soon as Dumbledore was gone. Shaking his head, he stalked out of the study and up to the library to see what Harry was up to. The boy was surrounded by books and big rolls of parchment. He did not remember seeing any parchment-bound books in his library.

"What are you up to?" Severus asked, prowling forward; his hooked nose looked over everything Harry had spread out around him. He was surprised to find a family tree in front of his son.

"I'm related to HIM," Harry said, his voice full of disgust.

Severus didn't need to ask who the “HIM” was; there was only one name Harry avoided using, and that was Voldemort’s—for good reason; sooner or later Voldemort was going to put a geas on his name again. He did not want his son caught for being proud and ending up killed. "How so?" he asked, looking up the tree, wondering where Harry had found the connection; he wasn't even aware Harry knew the spell to call up his family tree.

"We’re both related to the Peverells; see here?" Harry said, pointing to where both of the names branched out. Ignotus Peverell was the brother Harry's line came from, ending up Potter, of course. Cadmus Peverell's line went down to the Gaunts, then Riddle, a name familiar to both wizards: the Dark Lord, Voldemort. "Does that mean that my Parseltongue ability is my own? I mean, if the Horcrux is removed, I might still be able to talk?"

Harry's voice was filled with fear; no doubt he dreaded the thought of not being able to speak to his snake. Severus shook his head in exasperation; Harry had a one-track mind and did not think things through before asking. "Regardless of where you got the talent from, there is a potion that will allow you to," Severus replied, letting his exasperation show.

"I know, but it would be nice, you know, for it really to be mine," Harry said. He didn't have many talents he could call his own. Not ones he really liked; being good at Defence wasn't a useful talent... or rather, it wouldn't be if he didn't have a maniac after him. He didn't want to be an Auror, so it wasn't useful. He wasn't that good at Potions, not enough to do something with brewing after Hogwarts. Quidditch would just make him more famous, so he didn't plan on going down that route. He just wanted to fade into the background, know people spoke to him because he was just Harry, not Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. Severus had been the only one to treat him properly since he'd entered the Wizarding world. He just hadn't appreciated it until a year ago.

"We will find out some day," Severus said. This summer he planned on finding something to help his son. He had been searching, but not for any decent amount of time—not that he had the time between Order meetings, Death Eater meetings, teaching, and staff meetings. He needed to search when he had time, and obviously the summer was when he had the most amount of free time.

"Yeah," Harry said, biting his lip; he hated the thought of HIM being anywhere inside him. It made sense; he was glad he knew, but it didn't make the knowledge any better. "According to these books, Ravenclaw had a diadem. Could he use that?" Harry asked.

"It's been missing since the Founders' time; I doubt the Dark Lord could have found it," Severus said negatively.

"Okay, how about Helga's cup?" Harry asked, flipping to the page that had a yellow Post-It Note coming out of it.

"Who are the descendants?" Severus asked, sitting up, interested in Harry's research results.

Harry unrolled another long piece of parchment. "The line died out; a Hepzibah Smith was the last owner," Harry sighed; another dead end.

"When did she die?" Severus asked, coming around to look at it himself. Seeing the date, he summoned his notebook. "It's possible that the Dark Lord had her killed and took it. Unfortunately, we would be hard-pressed to find proof of it," Severus scowled.

"Well, I know for a fact that the Gryffindor sword isn't a Horcrux," Harry said; it had been in the Sorting Hat when he’d got it. Plus it was used to stab a Basilisk; the venom appeared to destroy the Horcruxes. If it had been one, then it certainly wasn't anymore, and it hadn't felt of Dark magic as the locket had.

"Back to square one," Severus sighed, sitting back again, irritated with the lack of information.

"I wouldn't rule out the cup or diadem; he was obviously obsessed with the Founders," Harry quietly insisted. "He used a diary, his own diary, so he obviously uses things that are personal to him too, like his snake. We know that's one; I wouldn't have been able to see out its eyes otherwise." Harry began twisting the small basilisk fang under his clothes; the fang meant more to him than all the gold in Gringotts.

"Perhaps," Severus said, as he began to browse his library, looking for books to do with magic and foreign entities, souls, and anything that would help him invent a way to get the piece of the Dark Lord’s soul from Harry's body.

"Are there any heirlooms in the Gaunt family?" Harry then wondered out loud.

"I have no idea," admitted Severus. "It is worth investigating further."

"Did I hear Dumbledore's voice?" Harry asked, trying and failing to hide his curiosity and hatred for the old fool.

"Indeed," Severus said, his arms now full of books. He placed them on a separate table from the Horcrux information.

"What did he want?" 

Severus stared at Harry, searching his eyes for a sign of what he was truly worried about. "Don’t worry; it was nothing to do with you. He was merely informing me of my new teaching job." There was a note of smugness in Severus' voice that had been missing when Dumbledore had Floo'ed.

"He gave you the Defence job, didn't he?" Harry asked. He knew of the rumours about Severus’ wanting the job and Dumbledore always turning him down. "Who's going to be teaching Potions?" His heart sank; he hoped both Potions and Defence weren't going to be a total nightmare.

"Horace Slughorn," Severus said, "my old Potions teacher." His voice was filled with scorn and rancour.

"What's he like?" Harry warily asked.

"Let's put it this way: he shouldn't be teaching," Severus dryly replied. "He is nothing like me, but I have a feeling you won't like him." The knowing look on Severus' face made Harry's heart sink. Oh no, what was he going to have to put up with? He didn't have to be a genius to understand Severus' words.

"Another Lockhart?" Harry gulped, his green eyes wide.

"Actually, I think you'd prefer Lockhart," Severus said wryly.

Harry groaned before his forehead hit the books on the table. Lockhart had been intolerable, but at least Harry had only been twelve then. He was more aware of the world now, how manipulative everyone was, and how everyone liked him just because of something he'd survived as a baby.

Severus just smirked as he continued with his research; he was determined to get that Horcrux out of his son. Even if it was the last thing he did on this earth, he would succeed. Nobody was better than he at Potions; if he, an expert brewer, couldn't come up with something, then there was no hope for anyone to find anything.

Harry continued reading the books he'd removed from the Chamber; he was no longer looking for Horcruxes, though. He was researching his own project, trying to find a way to keep Zar out of the Chamber, and in his life. He was surprised that Severus hadn't already demanded his familiar go down to the Chamber. He was so big; he knew eventually Severus would have to tell him to do it. It broke his heart just thinking about it; what would it actually be like to be told? He didn't want to find out, thank you very much.

"Have you read the book on the different kinds of magic?" Severus asked out of the blue.

"Yes. I'm halfway through; it's very interesting," Harry replied. It made him look at magic in an entirely different way.

"No doubt," Severus said smoothly, as he continued reading.

"Master Severus, lunch is ready," Dobby announced, appearing in front of them.

"We will eat it in here," Severus said, breaking his own rules, but there was no time to stop to eat.

"Yes sir," Dobby said, disappearing, then reappearing five minutes later, two individual trays floating beside him. He placed them on the tables the wizards were sitting at before he was gone once more.

"Do not get food on those books," Severus warned in his teacher-voice, one that spoke of a thousand detentions.

Harry just grinned, no longer fearful of Severus' wrath; nevertheless, he pushed the books away, not wanting to risk it. Vegetable soup, with fresh bread, fruit, ice cream, and yoghurt in different bowls for him to chose from. He would never get over how great it was to get fed three times a day. Even now, after all this time, he wondered silently if he'd ever stop feeling grateful and happy to get food.

"Eat before it gets cold; think later," Severus said without looking up.

Harry shook his head, his thoughts fading; see, he was positive that despite his walls, Severus could read him like an open book. He just had to; he always knew when Harry was feeling down or depressed or thoughtful. He quickly gobbled down the food, without scalding himself, before pushing the tray away. He would find a way; he just had to.

Both of them immersed themselves in their books, both of them determined to get to the bottom of their quests. Seeing them sitting together that way, both resolute and with purpose, one would have mistaken them for biological father and son. Yet after all they'd overcome all those years, surviving against all odds, they were closer than a father and son could hope to be.

They were on their paths; what remained to be seen was whether they would survive the perils ahead, especially with so many other factors with the potential to kill them. One thing for sure: the road ahead would be filled with crossroads and dangers the likes of which they hadn't quite experienced before. If they remained strong, together they might just survive the perils ahead. It was time for Harry to make his mark on the world.

Neither of them had seen the paper yet― a bridge in London had been destroyed by the Death Eaters and Dementors, and two witches were dead. One of them was an Order member― Vance. No doubt there would be a Order meeting soon; poor Severus just couldn't catch a break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks a million to Jake and Jordre for editing this story for me!


	43. Chapter 43

A New Place To Stay  
Chapter 43  
Finding Information 

Harry woke up at twenty past five the next morning. It was warmer today than it had been yesterday; the house-elves must have started earlier too. Grabbing the things he'd need, he went for a quick shower. He decided to forego his usual run; he would make up for it later. He had so much stuff he wanted to do; last night Dobby had told him about the hoarded newspapers in the library. The house-elves didn't get rid of anything, and so Harry was hoping maybe he could get answers from that. Harry dressed in loose- fitting clothes again today: a pair of jogging bottoms and a t-shirt. He used a spell to dry his hair, ensuring he used the correct wand. His second wand wasn't registered, so there was no trace on it, and no need to fear Ministry interference. He could use magic here without detection, but had gotten well used to using his spare anyway. Harry quietly made his way to the library, not wanting to wake anyone up.

"Dobby?" Harry called; looking around the library, he couldn't see any sign of newspapers.

"Yes, sir?" Dobby asked, appearing before Harry covered in soot; he'd been cleaning out the fireplace. Dobby didn't care about the dirty jobs; he loved being in Prince Manor and having Severus as well as Harry as Masters. When compared to Lucius Malfoy, it was no wonder Dobby loved Prince Manor so much. Plus the fact that the elves here were all free― he didn't get stared at by the others for not having a “proper master.” Winky had been the worst of them; she hated being free and continued to drink herself silly with Butterbeer, no matter what the others said.

"Where are the newspapers you told me about, Dobby?" Harry asked, staring at his soot-covered friend in amusement.

"Over here, Harry sir!" Dobby answered, his speech hyper; he loved helping Harry whenever he could. He dragged Harry over to a corner that had nothing but a small cabinet in its side. He opened it up, and inside, as he had said, were hundreds of papers. The place had to have been spelled to fit them all in there; Harry peeked in and nodded in satisfaction, wondering how long it would take him to get through them all. "Can Dobby help Harry sir with something?" he asked, all too eagerly.

Harry wandered back over to the table, grabbing his red notebook; it was filled with all the information and possible Horcruxes, as well as anything else he could think of to put in it. He went straight to the end and found the date for the last Hufflepuff descendant and asked for the dates, wanting at least a week's worth down the line from the date of her death. Dobby snapped his fingers, and the newspapers he wanted were neatly placed in his hands.

"Can you get anything you want out of there, Dobby… I mean without the dates?" Harry asked, sitting down on his chair. Severus had one side, and he normally sat on the other; his desk was filled with scrolls of Slytherin's and his own family tree. Books and spare parchment he’d used were also spread across it, as well as two notebooks, one red and one green. The red was for information, and he used the green one for spells he'd learned. The green one was quite thick; he had learned more during the summers than he did while attending Hogwarts all year.

"Yes, sir!" Dobby beamed, waiting patiently for Harry to ask for more.

"All right; anything on the Gaunts would be fantastic," Harry said. "Just for the last sixty or seventy years." He was already opening the newspapers and reading as fast as he could. He noticed the pictures weren't moving; the magic must have faded from them. He finally found the information he wanted, and his eyes widened in disbelief.

"Er…Dobby, do House-elves normally kill their Masters and Mistresses?" Harry gaped.

"Of course not, sir," Dobby said, his eyes wider than normal at Harry's question, and he felt a little hurt that Harry would say such a thing. He was very loyal to him, after all, and had proved himself time and time again.

"Thought not; see here, this house-elf has been put in Azkaban for killing his Mistress, Hepzibah Smith," Harry said, pointing towards the article in question. He began reading it, and things began to make more sense when he did. Harry absently nodded his head: stolen heirlooms; this had to be Voldemort's doing, he was sure of it. The cup of Helga Hufflepuff and a locket with an engraved S on it. There was a drawing of both of them, and a reward for finding them and her killer. One hundred Galleons... that was a lot of money, especially back then. The locket was exactly like the one they'd destroyed nearly a year ago, Salazar Slytherin's locket. If HE'd had one, then it was more than likely he had Hufflepuff's cup. He underlined the suggestion with his quill.

"Here you are, sir; information on the Gaunts," said Dobby, handing the papers over. He magically floated them to the only available space left on the huge table. He had to stop himself from cleaning it up; the elves had been told to leave the library as it was. They were only allowed in here to clean out the fire or light it up.

"Thanks, Dobby," Harry said, still reading information on Smith; unfortunately, all he learned was that the house-elf had been put in Azkaban after confessing. Harry wasn't stupid, though; there were plenty of ways to get someone to think he’d done something he hadn't. False memories, obliviate, Confundus charms... the list was endless, really. Harry, though, was going to discover a pattern in the coming hours.

Grabbing the two newspapers out of the seven Dobby had brought him, he put the others on the floor, having no need for them. He then began reading the other papers, looking for any mention of Gaunt; most of them were a lot of crap. Then, seeing the next paper, he froze; the face on the front page was strikingly similar to Salazar Slytherin. He remembered from the bust in Slytherin's chamber, the man had resembled a monkey, no offence meant. There was no denying that this man was his descendant, and apparently a sociopath as well. He'd been placed in Azkaban for harming a Muggle― a Muggle they identified as Thomas Riddle, Lord Voldemort's father. Still, it wasn't what he was looking for. Then he caught sight of Marvolo Gaunt in the picture; in it he wore a chunky, cheaply-made-looking ring on his ring finger. Marvolo was arrested for defending his son from the Ministry when he was arrested. Circling that picture with his quill, he put it in his “keep” pile as he went on to yet another paper. He noticed that his fingers were turning black; he'd need to wash his hands before going to breakfast. Severus would never allow him to eat with his hands looking like that; he was normally strict when it came to eating: decent clothes, washed hands, and, of course, he seemed to hate wasted food and liked him to eat a lot.

As he grabbed another paper he noticed his “discard” pile was gone; Dobby must have moved them or put them back. Marvolo Gaunt had died in prison before his son's sentence could be handed out... well, at least Voldemort wasn't responsible for that one, Harry couldn't help but think. Harry scribbled in the red book: Marvolo Gaunt - died - Azkaban Prison, before going through yet more papers. Then yet another pattern emerged: Morfin Gaunt confessed to killing the three Riddles in little Hangleton. Now Harry knew that to be false; Voldemort had confessed to killing his father and grandparents for abandoning him. According to the papers, Morfin went on about the fact that his father would have killed him for losing the ring. Harry nodded his head, marking that paper and adding it to the growing pile. He wrote in his book once more, this time adding another possible Horcrux. The Gaunt ring went next to the Hufflepuff cup.

Horcruxes   
Diary   
Slytherin locket   
Hufflepuff cup   
The Gaunt Ring   
Nagini   
Me

Possibles  
Ravenclaw's Diadem?   
Anything of the founders’. 

Harry sighed, straightening his back, and creaked his neck back and forth tiredly. His stomach was beginning to growl hungrily, but he continued with his quest― he wanted answers. Unfortunately, there was nothing more on the Gaunts after that. Which didn't surprise Harry, since they were all dead; there were just mentions of them when they died in the Obituaries section of the Daily Prophet. It seemed the dead even got a mention despite being in Azkaban. Well, it had gone better than expected; he had two possible Horcruxes, and it was just a matter of finding out which they were. Perhaps they had gone to his Death Eaters; after all, the diary had been in Malfoy's hands. Admittedly it didn't seem that Voldemort had given Regulus Black the locket, but rather, Black had stolen it.

"You’re up early," remarked a voice from the doorway, making Harry jump, his wand already in his hand.

Severus smirked in approval; he was glad the first thing Harry thought to do when surprised was raise his wand. It meant all this training wasn't for nothing. Harry was very good at Defence; it helped that he was powerful. The more powerful a wizard, the easier the spells came; it was why Dumbledore and the Dark Lord had been so good at their subjects at Hogwarts. He had heard Harry getting up an hour ago, and then it had gone rather quiet. He shouldn't have been surprised to find Harry in here, though. Harry was like his mother in that regard: when a puzzle was put in front of them, they just had to figure it out. The more time he spent with Harry, the more he realized just how extraordinarily like her he was. He had also noticed Harry had the picture of his grandparents in his bedroom, along with one of his parents. "What have you found out?" he asked when Harry didn't reply to his earlier question.

"He's a sneaky bastard," Harry said, screwing his nose up in distaste. "And wizards are stupid."

"How so?" Severus asked, raising his eyebrow at his son's words, not sure if he should feel insulted or not.

"We knew he killed his dad and grandparents, right? Well, he also killed Hepzibah Smith, and stole two of the family heirlooms," Harry said. Knowing what Severus was going to ask next, he handed over the newspaper at the appropriate page. He pointed towards the cup and, of course, the locket, which Severus too recognized, having destroyed it nearly a year ago. "He also framed Morfin Gaunt, his uncle, for the murder of his father and grandparents. I think he also stole the ring, the Gaunt ring. It might be a Horcrux too," Harry said, pointing towards the ring Marvolo Gaunt was wearing in a different newspaper.

"Your mother would be proud of you, Harry," Severus said, impressed with his son and his ability to find out information. "Where did you get these newspapers?" Perhaps it hadn't been all Granger over the years that had found information, because his son had found impressive amounts of information, and in a matter of hours.

"The house-elves don't throw anything out― Dobby told me last night. I figured that I might be able to get information from them," Harry said sheepishly, his face glowing red; nobody had said that before. If anyone knew that his mother would have been proud, it would be this man. His stomach fluttered pleasantly; he'd do anything to hear those words again. He had been denied any positive reinforcement for better grades and in general being better. He could count on one hand the number of times someone had said they were proud of him, and ironically enough they were all from this man.

"Perhaps we have something to look for, then," said Severus, as he stared at the ring on the man's finger. It was distasteful, not something he would ever wear. The man wearing it was just as distasteful; that was what inbreeding had done. To stay “pure,” they were risking not only their health, but their magic as well; Crabbe, Goyle, and these people were a great example of it.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, as his stomach growled loudly again.

"I plan on visiting the ruined shack that once belonged to the Gaunt family," Severus said, putting the newspaper back down, a grimace of disgust on his face. "First I think we should have something to eat; wash your hands." Once Harry had nodded his head, Severus turned back around and left the library. He had to admire Harry's tenaciousness, stubbornness, and determination to get to the bottom of things. They were more traits he had from his mother, yet Severus wouldn't have thought of using the newspapers, even if he had known they were there. Entering the dining room, he sat down, and immediately a black coffee was placed in front of him by Rose.

"Thank you, Rose. Please make sure none of the house-elves clean out the library," he instructed the elf; he wanted nothing moved.

"Yes, Master Severus, we understand," Rose said before she disappeared.

"How long will it take?" Harry asked curiously as he walked in, sitting down in his usual seat. Normally the food was already there for him, so it was a new experience actually waiting for it. While he waited for Severus to reply, he drank some of the orange juice that was in his goblet.

"No longer than an hour, I'd imagine," Severus said as he drank from his steaming brew. He wasn't about to Apparate straight there, just in case there were any nasty surprises; knowing the Dark Lord, nothing would surprise him. Just because the locket and diary hadn't been hexed, jinxed, or cursed, it didn't mean the others hadn't been. No, he was going to be cautious when he hunted these things down; he had a reason for living and surviving this war, thank you very much. He wasn't about to leave Harry on his own to hunt these things down and ensure Voldemort's defeat. He also couldn't help but worry about his godson― was he already marked? Had he already met Voldemort? Had he already been given a task to do? His godson was only fifteen years old, nearly sixteen. All he should be worrying about was school, girls, and Quidditch, not a war. He just wanted this war over with; the quicker the better, before it destroyed another generation of wizards and witches.

"Did you see yesterday's newspaper?" Harry asked.

"Indeed I did," Severus solemnly replied, understanding what Harry was talking about. Madams Bones and Vance had died; that might not seem like a great loss, but Vance had been an Order member. He might not personally like Vance, but he had to admire her courage in joining an organization that guaranteed she’d be hunted down. Many of the Order members had suffered for that; a few of their bodies had never been found.

"The Dementors are breeding; what exactly does that mean... other than there will be more of them?" Harry asked.

"Nothing more than that," Severus said. What he didn't tell Harry was that the Dementors needed to feed their young, which meant people would be getting kissed regularly to sustain them. It was not something to speak about at the breakfast table, plus Harry would take it upon himself to put the blame on his own shoulders, all thanks to Dumbledore’s putting it into Harry's head that he was to save the world, forcing him to be a Gryffindor. If only the boy been placed where he should have been, Severus would have found out about the abuse earlier. Not only that, but Harry wouldn't have done half the things he had at Hogwarts― Severus would have made sure of it.

Their breakfast was delivered after that, and they didn't speak as they ate. They were both deep in thought: about the war, the Horcruxes, and the upcoming school year. Severus knew if his godson had taken the Mark, he'd be too scared even to talk to him. Either that, or pride would have won out, and Draco would be determined to do whatever he'd been asked to do. Not out of pride for himself, but pride in the Malfoy name; his father had unfortunately weaned him on that from birth. He had no doubt Narcissa had probably been threatened too; he felt sorry for her, but she'd known what she was getting into, marrying a Death Eater. She had made her own bed; it had just taken until now for her really to have to sleep in it.

"Get your jacket," Severus said once their breakfast was finished, his voice, as always, demanding. Harry didn't hesitate; he summoned his cloak with his new wand and put it on. "You’ll need boots; we’re hiking," Severus told him after seeing Harry with nothing on his feet. Severus himself had a pair already on his feet― black, as always. He didn't wear them often, just when he was collecting potion ingredients. Once they were both suitably attired (and glamoured), Severus Apparated them as close to their destination as he dared go.

Harry looked around curiously. It was a good thing he hadn't kept his cloak, or he would have had to remove it. The weeds were knee-high; his cloak would have got caught in them. Harry shuddered when he caught sight of the manor; he swallowed thickly when he caught sight of the graveyard in the distance. He was comforted by a hand on his shoulder, telling him without words that someone understood, that he wasn't alone. Once Harry got a grip on himself, both of them began walking towards the Gaunt house, which reminded Harry of the Shrieking Shack. He had to stop himself from tripping up repeatedly, as the brambles seemed to want to see him on his face. He jumped on a fallen tree and off it again; now that he wasn't looking at the graveyard, Harry began to enjoy himself. He always loved it when he went somewhere he hadn't been before. Even the zoo had been worth the punishment Vernon had decided to heap upon him for his accidental magic.

Severus constantly cast spells on the area as they drew closer, making sure there were no alarm wards to trip, or trapping wards, or anti-Apparation wards on the area. It was a beautiful day, despite the fact that they were hunting for something so evil. Severus kept an eye on Harry, but he seemed to be enjoying himself, despite his shaky start— at remembering the death of Cedric Diggory, no doubt. He truthfully hadn't thought about it until he'd seen Harry shuddering.

Once they got closer, Severus realized there were enchantments on the shack. "Harry, come here," he called, his voice curt.

Harry did as he was told, staring curiously at the man he loved like a father, wondering what was wrong. He didn't have to wait long for Severus to say something.

"Wand out," Severus directed, deciding to teach Harry something else since he was here, and it wasn't just practicing. "Repeat these words with me," he instructed; then he began chanting an identifying spell. Harry raised his wand, copied Severus, and succeeded in casting the spell for the first time.

"Can you feel them?" Severus asked.

"Yes; that's odd, I know what they are," Harry said, his eyes wide in surprise.

"Yes. It's the identifying spell; it doesn't help if you don't know the specific ward or spell," Severus said in his usual teacher lecture-tone. He began to list all the spells on it, and asked Harry, "Now, how do you get rid of them?"

"Finite Incantantem?" Harry suggested questioningly.

"Most of them, yes; there are a few more that require the proper counter-spells," Severus said wryly, making a note to teach Harry more about wards, enchantments, and counter-spells. If the Dark Lord was using them, then Harry would need to know them as well. The library had quite a few books on the subject, so he could start there. "Go on, then; use the spell." He wanted to see if Harry could successfully break the Dark Lord's spells. The other two he would need to break, since Harry couldn't possibly know the counter-spells.

"FINITE INCANTANTEM!" Harry cast strongly, pouring as much magic as he could into it, grinning proudly when he felt the wards crumble under his powerful counter-charm. As soon as he finished, Severus began chanting in Latin as well; Harry made sure to listen carefully. He was curious about them; what would they have done if they'd gone past them? Something painful, no doubt, knowing Voldemort; the place really was disgusting.

"There; let's go," Severus said, both of them then stepping further towards the shack. Severus didn't seem surprised to see it still intact. Harry, however, was surprised to see beds, clothes, boxes, cupboards... everything still inside. Maybe the wards had stopped people from coming in? He shuddered as a thought struck him… was his house in Godric's Hollow still like that? Would he find his parents' clothes still hanging in wardrobes? His room still intact? It was a weird concept, that everything had just been left there to rot for the past fourteen years.

Severus began ransacking the building, flinging mattresses off the beds, opening drawers and spilling out the contents, checking all boxes and containers for anything that could be a Horcrux. Harry began helping as well, but so far, no luck. They even checked the small kitchen area, but there seemed to be nothing of value whatsoever. As the minutes passed and the entire shack had been searched, Severus seemed to lose hope that it was here.

"This is useless," Severus snapped furiously. Damn it, he had been so sure something would be here at least. Everything seemed to be a dead end; they had to find these Horcruxes and quickly. Why had he had enchantments on the place if there was no Horcrux? No; there had to be something, and so he kept searching; he even resorted to summoning charms, but to no avail― nothing came flying at them.

"There's nothing; let's go, Harry," said Severus breathing through his nose; he'd just wasted over an hour of his time searching every inch of the shack twice for a Horcrux, for nothing. Once he was sure Harry was following him, he began walking out, his pace quick and loud, conveying his frustration at the lack of success they were having.

Harry followed Severus out; they were missing something, he was sure of it. As Severus had thought, Harry didn't think there would have been spells there for nothing. As they were leaving, Harry stepped on a loose floorboard and felt like slapping himself. Of course! He did it as well; he hid anything of value under the floorboards. Growing up in an orphanage, he would bet Voldemort did the exact same thing. Stepping back, he knelt down and ripped the loose floorboard up. He smirked in triumph― he'd succeeded. He removed the golden box from within its confines under the floor. He opened the unlocked chest; he ignored the warning bells ringing in the back of his mind that it had been too easy. Harry's hand went to pick the ring up, but before he could he was yanked back with a yelp of surprise and a grunt as he hit the opposite wall and fell to the floor. Despite the aches and pains, he rolled onto his knees with his wand raised. "That hurt!" he snapped when he saw Severus was still the only one there. He didn't care about the death glare Severus was giving him; he rubbed at his head absently, putting his wand away.

"Stupid, idiotic brat," Severus muttered, going over to Harry to make sure he wasn't bleeding or badly hurt. He grabbed Harry's chin and forced his son to meet his eyes. "Do not pick up objects you don't know without testing them first. Especially things the Dark Lord has touched... do you understand me?" His voice was full of urgency and anger.

Harry swallowed thickly; he hadn't seen Severus glaring at him like that, not for a long time, and not genuinely. "I won't, I'm sorry," Harry said guiltily, unable to meet Severus' eyes. He had known something could happen; he had felt it deep inside, yet he'd continued on. He felt all kinds of foolish right now, and he deserved whatever punishment Sev might dole out.

"Good," Severus said, breathing easier. He'd walked out of the house expecting Harry to be right behind him. When he hadn't followed, he'd gone back in, only to feel as if his heart would explode in fear and fury. He'd used the first spell he could think of to get Harry away from it. He only wished he'd warned Harry against touching the damn things. He let Harry's chin go, seeing his message had been received, and crouched down near the Horcrux. He didn't remove it from the gold chest, but used his wand to find out if it was hexed, cursed, or jinxed. He closed his eyes in horror at the mere consequences of what could have just happened. Thank Merlin he'd come back in when he had; a second later and Harry would have been cursed beyond repair.

"Is is cursed?" Harry asked; seeing Severus' reactions, he just knew it was. He didn't know if he wanted to be told what it could do to him.

"Yes; it would have killed you," Severus replied. His voice was strange; it had an odd note that Harry had never heard Severus use before. Harry paled and looked at the innocent-looking ring… well, it had been a lesson nearly hard-learned. He swore to himself he'd never pick up anything, especially when he didn't know what it was and who had handled it.

Both of them froze when they heard the tell-tale sound of someone Apparating in nearby―it sounded like a remarkably loud backfiring car. They looked each other wide-eyed; Harry immediately ducked down, crawled along to the window, peeking out before hiding again. He turned to Severus who was still sitting there; he mouthed the word “Dumbledore” to him. Severus' black eyes widened; he nodded his head once jerkily. He grabbed the chest, and replaced the floorboards with quick efficiency. Looking around he fired off yet another spell, and Harry watched in awe as not just one room but them all began straightening themselves out. He'd seen Molly doing it, but it had only worked on certain objects, not the entire room. That alone conveyed just how powerful Severus was, but, like Harry, he chose to hide it from everyone. Harry was still staring at everything when he was grabbed and pulled along with Severus as they tried to get out of the shack without being seen. Dumbledore could see through spells; the only chance they had was getting out the other side of the shack.

"Quick," Severus said, pointing towards the small bathroom window.

Harry was thankful for all the Harry-hunting games his cousin used to play; he was very good at climbing and not afraid of heights. With three swift movements he was up at the window and jumping down, grunting as he hit the too-long grass, thorns, and nettles. He bit his lip and used his foot to stamp them down, as he saw Severus climbing through the window too. Once they regained their bearings, they didn't stop to take a break, but went on. Both of them were breathing heavily, adrenaline pumping through them as they finally got out of sight. They still had their glamours on, but again, Dumbledore could see through magic, so it wouldn't have mattered.

"He knows," Harry said sourly, as he scratched at his hands, which were bleeding and sore and filled with little blisters caused by the nettles. He tried not to scratch them, but it was driving him crazy, they itched so badly.

"Indeed; come here," Severus responded. Once his son was in his arms, he Apparated away from Little Hangleton, grateful they'd beaten Dumbledore to the Horcrux. He was furious, though; all this time, the old man had known― destroying the diary had been for nothing. He was even more furious that Dumbledore hadn't let anyone else in on his plan. He would have proved useful in hunting them down; unfortunately, this just showed how little Dumbledore actually trusted him, and that hurt. Not as much as it would have a few years ago, before he'd found out Dumbledore had left Lily's son― his son―at the Dursleys', knowing how he was being treated there.

Finally they were back home. Severus immediately and without thought removed the glamours. Seeing Harry's hand, he began guiding him towards the dungeons; grabbing the potions he needed, he sterilized a pair of tweezers. "Give me your hand," Severus said; carefully taking it, he began picking out the embedded thorns. Harry didn't even wince as he removed them; his hand remained steady until they were all gone. Severus put a cream on the hand, and Harry sighed in relief once the itching was gone; if he had looked, he would have noticed that the thorn wounds were healing also. Severus then used his wand to bandage Harry's hand; once it was done, he nodded in satisfaction. "There." He allowed Harry to take his hand back.

Severus placed the Horcrux in its casket on his workbench, wondering briefly if it would work just to place basilisk venom on it, or if it would need to be broken first. Well, here goes, he thought as he tipped the ring into an old cauldron. He didn't want to put it on the bench where he prepared ingredients; basilisk venom was extremely lethal, after all. Picking up the vial of venom he'd brought out of the cupboard, he uncorked it, then added three large drops to the ring. Holding his breath, he waited for a reaction, any reaction. Then it happened. It hissed and sizzled angrily, and shrieked in agony before it lay still once more. Another Horcrux had finally been destroyed. He just wished getting the Horcrux out of Harry would be that easy.

"We did it," Harry said, a sense of satisfaction enveloping him.

"Yes, we did," Severus said, smirking wryly. None of his depressing thoughts showed on his face. He had to increase his research on Harry and the Horcrux inside him. He had to find out how to get rid of it, before it started affecting the boy any more than it was. He wondered, though, how the basilisk venom Harry had been injected with hadn't destroyed the Horcrux... after all, Harry had nearly died. Why had it not destroyed it? It made him think that maybe the only way it could be removed was by Harry's death… but he refused to believe that. He was a Potions Master; if anyone could do it, it was he. He'd been inventing potions and spells since he was fifteen years old; he'd be damned if magic or the Dark Lord took away someone else he loved. He would find a way, even if it was the last thing he did.

"That's an odd pattern; is it the Gaunt badge?" Harry asked, peering down at the destroyed Horcrux.

"I have no idea," Severus said. Coats of arms and house insignia weren't his thing; he preferred defence and potions. The only insignia he knew was his, the Prince coat of arms, and that was because it was all over his home. He had never dreamed all those years ago, when he'd come up with the moniker of “Half-Blood Prince,” that he'd have all this. The sign was niggling at him though, but for the life of him he couldn't think of what or why.

"Hey, look, why do you have rats?" Harry asked, his mind off the strange design. Gazing at them enquiringly, he blinked in surprise. If he didn't know better, he'd have thought they were glaring at him. Rats didn't glare, did they? Did they even know how to hate, to glare? The beady eyes reminded him of his uncle; he stared at them for a few seconds before shaking his head and deciding to ignore them, since they were freaking him out. "One's not Pettigrew, is it?" His voice sounded hopeful.

Severus' bark-like laughter made Harry suppress a smirk of his own; the only time he'd heard Severus laugh was when he'd protested that he didn't have money. That had been filled with sarcasm and chilled him to the bone; this one, though, was filled with amusement. It had to have been the first genuine laugh he'd heard from him yet. "No, unfortunately not," Severus said vindictively; he would love nothing more than to put Pettigrew in there with them. Justice would have been served in a full circle; it was Pettigrew's fault Harry had been sent to the Dursleys in the first place.

"It's curious that Dumbledore checked out that place at the same time as us," Harry said as they left the dungeons and made their way to the dining room. They were both exhausted and hungry; they just wanted to sit down and have something to eat. "Do you think he just found out that there might be one there?"

"I do not know," Severus sighed, sitting down and running his hand down his face, exhausted. "There is no way to find out, either." Apparently Dumbledore wasn't about to share his plans with anyone, least of all him. 

Just then, Fawkes appeared in a ball of flames. Severus froze when he saw the fireball, hoping that Dumbledore had not come with his familiar. He let out a breath when he saw that the bird was alone; he took the letter, only to find that it wasn't meant for him. Under it he found a smaller one for himself; he handed Harry his, refraining from rolling his eyes at the surprise in those green eyes.

Dear Harry, 

If it's convenient for you, I shall call in on you this coming Friday at eleven a.m. If you are agreeable, I should be glad of your assistance in a matter to which I hope to attend. I shall explain more fully when I see you. 

Kindly send me a reply as soon as possible. Hoping to see you this Friday. 

I am yours most sincerely, 

Albus Dumbledore 

"Convenient, my arse," Harry scowled, staring at the missive mutinously.

"What does he want from you?" Severus stiffly asked. No surprise for him; he was being called to an Order meeting. Tonight, at ten p.m. As if he didn't have enough to do.

"He wants my help," Harry replied, suspicion lighting up his green eyes. "On Friday; he's coming here."

"Hmm…" was all Severus had to say on that subject as food was finally placed in front of them.

"He wants me to reply, but Hedwig is still out replying to Neville; can I borrow Ares?" Harry asked, as he looked at the letter again.

"I'm attending a meeting tonight; I'll take it," Severus told him. It would save the birds from a long flight to Scotland, where Dumbledore was probably seething at the moment after failing to find the Horcrux. At least he wouldn't know he'd been beaten to it. Severus had cleaned up after himself, and they hadn't been seen; otherwise Dumbledore would have been here, demanding to know what the hell was going on.

"Okay," Harry said, grabbing the necessary items before writing a very short reply. He said nothing more than he had to and folded it in half. He passed it along to Severus before digging into his lunch; he was, simply put, starving. "What are we doing next?" he asked as he dug in.

"Duelling," Severus answered. "This evening, reading books about warding, enchantments, and counter-charms."

"Brilliant!" Harry said, his green eyes twinkling brightly. He wanted to know more; he'd been planning on getting a few books from the library. It turned out he wouldn't need to, and Severus would know which books he should read first.

Severus just smirked as he continued to eat.

 

\------------------

After lunch, just as Severus had said, they left the Manor and went out into the area that Harry had dubbed the “Training Ground.” Severus taught him new spells for an hour or two before they began duelling. As they duelled, Severus noticed that Harry was falling on his backside less and less frequently. He was beginning to get better, more advanced, anticipating the next move, being less “noble” with his spell-casting. He also noticed that Harry was holding his own, despite the pain he had to be in from certain spells. Eventually, though, Severus could see that he was tiring and decided to stop; he only had half an hour before he had to attend the meeting. Plus it was getting too dark, and he didn't want to hurt Harry accidentally. With one last spell, he decided enough was enough.

"Do you need a potion?" Severus asked, helping the exhausted teenager up. He was vastly improving; the boy was no longer predictable. Some of the spells Harry had used had surprised him; he wondered if Harry should use the training dummy he'd used last year. No, he needed proper duelling; the dummy had been good for target practise, but not for duels.

"Yes," Harry winced, completely winded. Despite the fact that the wound had been healed, he was still sore. He was nevertheless proud of the fact that he'd continued the duel despite the cutting curse that had grazed his ribs. He knew Severus was too; he'd seen the proud glint light up his eyes, which had made him push even further. Harry had been drowning in his desire to be noticed, to be loved, and to be praised for so many years. Then Severus had come along and given him everything he'd wanted and needed.

"Well done," Severus said, handing over the potion. Harry had to learn to handle pain― to fight through it, otherwise the first curse that hit him would see him down and eventually dead. "I'm proud of the progress you've made." Harry was no longer using the disarming charm; he'd yet to use it since Severus had given him a row for it. It had been true nevertheless; Harry would be recognized by using that spell no matter what disguise he had up, just as Severus would be if he used the Sectumsempra spell.

"Thank you!" Harry beamed, his face lighting up, and it wasn't all to do with the potion taking away his aches and pains. Together father and son made their way into the manor; it was, as always, warm and welcoming for them.

"Do you want to go to your bed?" Severus asked in concern; he'd had one hell of day. He'd been up since five o'clock in the morning.

"No," Harry said immediately; despite how exhausted he was, he wanted to read.

"Very well; I, however, must go," Severus said; no doubt they'd spend hours talking about nothing he didn't already know. That said, he immediately Apparated out, away to Grimmauld Place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big Thanks to Jake and Jordre as always for editing


	44. Chapter 44

A New Place To Stay  
Chapter 44   
Order meetings 

Severus found himself down the road from Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. As always, he kept an eagle eye on the street. Regulus Black had been a Death Eater; repentant or not, the Dark Lord could still know about its existence. He even kept an eye on the ground, aware of Pettigrew's Animagus form. It was obvious to Severus that Pettigrew had been sent to Spinner’s End to keep an eye on him. He knew the second Pettigrew was called, he'd have to make up excuses, but at this point he really couldn't care. Staring at the surrounding buildings, he sighed before he said the words to the safe house clearly in his mind: “The Order of the Phoenix can be found at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.” The building materialized in front of him, almost like shimmering water parting to reveal the hidden townhouse. His masks in place, showing the world he was “bored,” he headed in. The meeting hadn't started yet; there were a few members already there waiting, and speaking to one another. It was sombre, tense even, which suited Severus' mood rather well. He took his usual seat, which was the farthest away from Black’s and next to Dumbledore's.

He sat quietly, resolutely ignoring Sirius Black as the Order members piled in. Shacklebolt was next, and he sat next to Severus, as he usually did unless Moody got there first.

"How is it going?" Shacklebolt asked, his voice low so none of the others could overhear him.

Severus just arched an eyebrow in curiosity, not sure what Shacklebolt was implying; he had some inkling though.

"Has the dummy proved useful?" the Auror then clarified, his brown eyes gleaming with curiosity and satisfaction. He might hold respect for Dumbledore, and do what he had to do for the Order, but that didn't mean he agreed with all Dumbledore's decisions. He didn't like the fact that Dumbledore refused to train Harry Potter. Dumbledore had insisted they all take Unbreakable Vows to protect Harry and never to reveal the location of Grimmauld Place, and last but by no means least, to keep the identities and secrets spoken about in the Order. Obviously Dumbledore didn't want another Pettigrew; given the state of the war, that didn't surprise him. Shacklebolt wasn't a stupid wizard; there had to be a reason Dumbledore had made them protect Harry. It sure as hell didn't mean it was just because Harry was powerful. Then this whole Prophecy had come into play. He might not know its contents, but he had a funny feeling what it might contain. It was why he'd come to the decision to help Snape do what needed to be done. He was the only one who could train him; the kid was living with him, after all. He would have loved to train Harry, if he was anywhere near as powerful as they said he was. He'd make one hell of an Auror one day, maybe one of the best if that was the road he chose. He wasn't sure it was what the kid would want— if he survived the war, that was. By the time it was over, the kid would be sick of being hunted down and nearly killed. He'd bet his badge on it, but when it came to Harry Potter, he was constantly surprised. The knowledge that he'd successfully cast a FULLY FLEDGED Patronus at the age of thirteen was mind-blowing. He could only cast one now, after weeks of trying, much to his delight.

"Very," Severus said, his own dark eyes gleaming with delight. "He destroyed it." As he spoke, his lips barely moved, and he was speaking very quietly. He did not want anyone else to overhear what he was saying, especially Black.

"You have to be joking," Shacklebolt choked, his eyes wide with surprise, his voice louder than necessary, drawing more attention to them. Considering Severus didn't speak much during meetings, they were being observed as it was. Black especially was glaring rather fiercely at Severus' back. His jealousy was eating him up inside; he hated the fact that Severus had Harry rather than he. And it made him angry that he was even jealous of a man like Severus Snape in the first place. It was a vicious circle, and Harry was, unfortunately, in the middle of it.

Severus just shook his head, a wicked smirk appearing on his face. He was proud of the progress Harry had made. Even prouder that it was he whom Harry looked up to, admired, and wanted to please. Who would have thought? He certainly wouldn't have imagined it two years ago. He wasn't sure how much Harry liked him, but it was obvious to him Harry saw him as a parental figure. Never having one before in his life it was no surprise; what wouldn't surprise him either was Harry’s not understanding what he was feeling. Satisfaction filled him seeing Shacklebolt's gobsmacked look.

"Well, I'll be damned," Shacklebolt said, after a few minutes of stunned silence as yet more Order members began filing in. Harry had destroyed the dummy; some of the best Aurors had tried and failed to do that. Aurors regularly trained with the dummies, not just the newbies trying to get through graduation. Not all of them could withstand the pressure of the job, and they weeded out the weak ones and nurtured the promising ones. With the upcoming war it was more important than ever, but Shacklebolt was seeing even the weak getting through. Their standards were slipping, and he could do nothing about it... incompetent Minister that Fudge was. He wanted to tell the others; he was rather excited, since most people thought the dummies were indestructible. Unfortunately, he knew to do so was stupidity; perhaps after the war, but not during it.

Shacklebolt went to open his mouth to ask another question when the fire flared emerald green, before a man in multicoloured clothes stepped out. The leader and founder of the Order had arrived. He closed his mouth and sealed his mind more tightly. He knew Dumbledore had a habit of reading their surface thoughts. He had been furious and shocked the first time he’d felt it; thankfully Albus hadn't tried again when he’d realized Shacklebolt had caught him doing it. Dumbledore looked pissed off, even angrier than he'd been when he'd discovered the prophecy missing. Speaking of that, he realized that Dung hadn't been to the meetings since. Nobody could blame him; Dumbledore was scary when he wanted to be. It was no wonder he was the only one Voldemort was terrified of.

"I am sure you have all heard by now what happened to Emmeline Vance, and of course Amelia Bones," Dumbledore said, his voice grave and a little defeated, as if each death were weighing heavily upon him. Perhaps they were, but Severus felt no sympathy; it was what he'd been trying to do to Harry.

"Poor dears!" Molly sighed, sadness lingering in her eyes; it was truly getting to her that the war had really started again. She feared for her children's lives, as her Boggart had shown. She lived and breathed for them, and she would do anything for their happiness and safety.

"Yes; Susan Bones is now an orphan," Shacklebolt said. Amelia had had all sorts of pictures of Susan all over her desk. Amelia was just her aunt, but she had raised Susan since she’d been was a baby. He felt deeply for the girl; she'd lost her parents during the first war, much as Harry Potter had. Now she truly was alone, in every sense of the word.

"Indeed," Severus said. Susan was good at potions, better than most he could name. She didn't have the potential to be a Master of the subject, but was good enough for him to approve of.

"The booklets the Ministry gave out are useless; Death Eaters can tear through them in seconds!" Sirius complained.

"Unfortunately, there's nothing we can do about that," Albus said tiredly, his half-moon glasses perched on his large nose. "Severus, have you been called?"

"No," Severus said, his lip curling in repugnance. He hated talking about his duty in front of all these people. He wasn't going to tell Dumbledore about Draco yet, not until he had confirmation that he was marked. If he was, he would have to tell him, and try to help his trapped godson. He dreaded Hogwarts’ starting back up for that very reason.

"He has been very quiet; do you have any suspicions of what he's up to?" Dumbledore probed. He feared Voldemort was planning something big, something to do with Harry. The Dark wizard knew about the prophecy; there was little doubt he would try harder than ever before to kill Harry. With Lucius out of the picture, he knew Draco Malfoy would be on the receiving end of Voldemort's anger. It was probably only a matter of time before he was given a task to do, to prove his worth. Every Death Eater that joined was given a task to do.

"Unfortunately not," Severus replied emotionlessly. This was a lie, but Dumbledore couldn't detect that. He had a fair idea of what was going on, and if his suspicions were correct, he didn't want everyone here judging his fifteen-year-old godson. No, if he was right, he'd be duty-bound to tell Dumbledore. Until he knew for sure, he was going to keep quiet and pray for the best.

"Fudge has been to see the Muggle Prime Minister; I'm not sure what good that will do. I don't think Fudge is going to last much longer, either; he's cracking under the strain of the war already," Shacklebolt announced.

Moody barked out in laughter, "I don't doubt that." War could break the hardest of men within a few months, and Fudge wasn't by any definition a strong man. Moody was no longer an Auror; he had retired and still was retired. He'd only agreed to come out of retirement as a favour to Albus, which had turned out to be a bad thing, and he was still furious with Dumbledore for not realizing it hadn’t been he at Hogwarts. Still, forgive and forget had to happen, especially in war.

"If we lose Fudge, who knows who will be picked as Minister?" Arthur commented, concerned; it would be the opening You-Know-Who was looking for to take over. If the Ministry were overrun, it would only be a matter of time before Hogwarts and the Wizarding world was too. Everyone there knew this, which was why they were putting up with Fudge.

"Only an idiot would want to be elected Minister now," Severus sneered. They would become immediately targetted by Death Eaters and the Dark Lord, especially if it wasn't someone that they could control, or had in their back pocket. Money opened a lot of doors, and considering that the purebloods had a lot of it, they had quite the advantage. Not that Albus Dumbledore would see or hear of such things happening. He believed everyone was good deep inside, and believed quite vocally in second chances... which Severus thought was completely stupid. Technically Dumbledore had given him a second chance, but he'd proved himself time and time again. He'd had to swear an Unbreakable Vow before Dumbledore would even begin to trust him. He, himself, didn't believe in second chances; however, he should be glad that Albus did. He wasn't the only one; evidently Harry believed in second chances too. He would have thought it was a Gryffindor thing, if it weren’t for the fact that Harry was actually a Slytherin.

The others could only agree with him. Despite his sneering, sarcastic ways, he always spoke the truth... even if most of them didn't like the truth he happened to speak at times.

"Has anyone seen or heard anything lately?" Dumbledore asked, regarding them all pensively. He somewhat wished he hadn't been so short with Mundungus; he did bring back some half decent information. He was a drunk; he knew a lot of unsavoury characters, mostly through selling illegal goods. Most people dismissed him as totally inebriated and continued their conversations.

"They’re getting more bold in their attacks; with the Dementors on their side, they think they’re invincible," Tonks said. Her hair was black and short, showing how solemn she was; normally her hair was bright pink or red. "Seventy Muggle families have been tortured and Kissed in the past week alone." Normally anything to do with the Muggles required Arthur and his office, the “Misuse of Muggle Artifacts” department. Unfortunately, with so many attacks, the office was spread thin. The Aurors had to contain the situation as best they could. Muggles couldn't find out about the magical world; it would make things ten times worse. She had nothing against Muggles; her own father was one, and he was the most honourable man she'd ever met. The thing that got to them the most was that they were dying for something beyond their control. Dying for a cause not their own, dying never understanding why it happened. She shuddered just remembering the family she'd seen. The Dementor's Kiss was the most horrific thing that could happen to a person. They'd had to kill the bodies of the Muggles; their minds were already gone ―the Kiss did that― which was no consolation at all.

Severus winced― Seventy? In a week? Well, the Prophet was covering up the severity of the problem and only reporting the big attacks then. Attacks that were noticeable by their nature, such as the bridge.

"We should be grateful that he does not know the locations of Muggle-born students," Albus Dumbledore said, saddened by the meaningless deaths already heaped upon the world by a demented madman. Albus kept the book of records under lock and key. He had done so ever since the first war; it was what Tom had started to do the first time around. Of course there were ways around it; all accidental magic was recorded. That way would take much longer than looking into the book and seeing their addresses. Not that this seemed to matter to Tom this time around, his whole attention was solely focused on Hogwarts, the Order, and, of course, Harry... not in that particular order. This stiffened his resolve to see the war ended by any means necessary, including the sacrifice Harry would have to make.

"It won't be long before he gets his hands on them," Severus said emotionlessly.

"Not if I can help it," Albus said bleakly. He had to find those Horcruxes; he had all the information he could gather. So far he had been unsuccessful in locating them, which was frustrating him to no end. He was still coming to terms with the fact that Tom had been able to do it. It was why he had banned all those kinds of books as soon as he’d taken the mantle as Headmaster. The students should not be able to read up on such material. The book in question was in his office; he had not destroyed it, and a good thing, really. No book remaining in Hogwarts' library discussed them beyond than one little sentence, and they were never named. He still didn't know how Tom had found out about them, or how many he'd made― if there were more than one. It was still all only a possibility at this point. The diary was the only thing he had to go on, and there were only minuscule traces of magic on it.

"When are you letting my godson come here?" Sirius bitterly asked, changing the subject. He missed Harry greatly; writing to him now and again just wasn't the same. He wanted to see his godson, make sure he was okay; staying with Snape couldn't be good for him. Snape hated Harry, and Sirius was worried about how he was being treated there. Wards or not, spy or not, he did not trust Snivellus Snape.

"Not a good idea; too many people already know about this place," Severus pointed out, curling his lip in disgust and sneering at Black for showing his hatred. "Including Lestrange― not someone I would wish even on Potter." Harry hadn't been happy about leaving Prince Manor last year. He doubted it had changed; Harry was very… attached to Prince Manor. Knowing what he did about his past― which was absolutely everything, him having made the child talk― no doubt it was the first place Harry had been allowed to flourish, to have his own room, privacy, and, dare he say, happiness. It was no wonder he preferred being there. Grimmauld Place was a dark, dreary place, with no escape. There was a small, emphasis on the “small,” garden outside. Compared to his grounds, Black's garden was miniature. It made him feel incredibly smug that Harry preferred him over Black—which was very unusual; who in his right mind would prefer him to Black? It was just too bad he couldn't throw it in Black's face. At least not yet, anyway.

"As much as it pains me, Sirius, I am afraid Severus has a point. It's much too dangerous to risk it," Albus quietly agreed with his spy. He couldn't allow Harry to get too attached to Sirius again. This war was taking off much more quickly than the last one, and Harry would need to sacrifice himself to end Tom's reign of terror. Harry had a part of Tom inside of him; that must also be destroyed for the evil wizard to be truly able to die. Harry had been living on borrowed time ever since surviving that night.

"It's not fair," Sirius scowled, his eyes going cold and dark as he stared at Dumbledore with viciousness. If it wasn't for Dumbledore's protection, he'd be telling the old fool what he really thought of him.

"Hasn't life taught you yet that it isn't fair, Black?" Severus sneered; he was so immature, it was mind-boggling to Severus. He was like a five-year-old shrieking it's not fair to his parents when he didn't get what he wanted. Black been put in Azkaban without a trial for twelve years, lost his best friends because of another friend's betrayal, yet all he could say was, life wasn't fair? The ironic thing was, Harry was more mature than Black; he didn't whine about the things he'd gone through. Harry's life hadn't been fair; Black had gotten off easy, in Snape's opinion. At least he'd had a decent childhood, and had been grown up when he’d been dealt a harsh hand. Although one could say that Black hadn't grown up; he was forever stuck in an adolescent stage. It didn't help that he was reduced to the same thing just by seeing the mutt.

Black snarled; he looked ready to leap across the table and strangle Severus. The only thing stopping him was Remus' strong hold, and of course Dumbledore's voice.

"Enough!" Dumbledore harshly snapped, losing his patience a lot more quickly than normal. "If there's nothing new to learn, I suggest we leave it for the day."

Nobody disagreed; it was evident that this meeting wasn't going to produce new information. It was only taking up time they could be working. Only a select few didn't have jobs; most had jobs in the Ministry or a place of importance that would help the Order and influence the war. In groups or one after another, they all left the sanctuary that Grimmauld Place offered. Only Sirius Black was unable to leave; even Remus had been busy trying to recruit the werewolves. Hagrid was also still away on an assignment, trying to gain the allegiance of the Giants. Since he was a half-giant himself, they would be more likely to listen to him than any wizard Albus could send. Not that he'd get the wizard back; the giants would probably eat him before letting that happen.

"What's the matter with you, boy?" Moody growled as he was manhandled by Shacklebolt the entire way out of Grimmauld Place.

"Potter managed to destroy it," Shacklebolt said, his entire voice filled with gloating amazement, after he'd looked around first, ensuring nobody was there. He didn't want someone to overhear him; it wouldn't be good for them or Severus. It wouldn't do for Harry's training to be ended by Dumbledore's idiotic belief that Harry was “just a child.” If half the shit he'd been through was true, there was no way the boy was just a child anymore. Basilisks? Tournaments and meeting Voldemort? No, Harry had to prepare for what lay ahead. Nobody would be better than Snape for that; despite the fact he'd been a Death Eater, Kingsley thought Severus was genuinely on their side. He would continue to believe it, unless of course, he was given reason to believe otherwise. He was an Auror, a bright man; there was no way Dumbledore hadn't extracted the same vows from Severus that he had from the rest of the Order.

"What?" Moody barked, his normal eye widening in shocked disbelief. Inwardly, though, pride began to thrum through him. He only wished he'd actually taught the boy, given him extra lessons during fourth year. Unfortunately, Dumbledore had been duped, something that irritated him to this day.

"I know," Shacklebolt said, grinning widely, sticking his hat on his bald head.

"Unbelievable," Moody muttered, shaking his head as he Apparated away. Since he didn't work, he headed back home. He was only in the Order because he felt it was his duty, to help in any way he could. Shacklebolt did the same thing, heading straight to bed; he had work to be up for in the morning.

\--------------

Severus Apparated himself to Spinner’s End; he knew it was time to check on the potions. As soon as he entered, he sniffed in disdain; it stank something awful. He knew he'd never come back here after the war. He'd rather burn down the house than sit in it, knowing Pettigrew had been there. Pettigrew was sitting on his favourite armchair, sleeping, and drool was making its way down his chin. Severus grimaced in utter disgust. If only he could… kill the stinking rat where he stood. No, there would be a time when he could get his revenge… hopefully soon, but this wasn't it. He sensed his house-elf nearby, invisibly watching the place just as he'd asked.

"PETTIGREW!" Severus snarled furiously.

Wormtail leapt up as if his backside were on fire, snivelling before he realized who had shouted. He glared through watery eyes at Snape distrustfully; he didn't even attempt to raise his wand. He knew better; if Snape could get the better of Black and Potter in school, there was little doubt he'd rid the world of him without a problem. Snape was vicious, and Voldemort had congratulated him often enough for it. "Where have you been?" the rat snivelled, still glaring.

"When did I begin answering to you, Pettigrew?" Severus sneered. His lips were curled in disgust as he stood facing the rat.

"I'll tell him," Pettigrew threatened, which didn't have much affect with his large watery eyes and shivering body.

"Go ahead; I'm sure he loves your opinion," Severus smirked viciously. "Move out of my way." When Pettigrew did, Severus cast a spell on the retreating rat's backside, causing him to squeak in protest and pain. He went straight to his makeshift lab; he'd created it once his parents had been gone― it had originally been their bedroom. He only needed one bedroom here, so it was safe to use the other as a lab.

The two potions were simmering away, both blood-red in appearance, but he knew that wouldn't be the case for much longer. He picked up the ingredient they'd need and measured out the proper amounts before adding it to the first, his pewter stick stirring precisely twenty times before he removed it. He repeated the process with the next potion, ensuring the stirring stick was clean first. This only required a simple cleaning spell from his wand. Once both were done, he nodded in grim satisfaction. He didn't like what he knew these potions were going to be used for, yet the Potions Master in him loved brewing potions, especially difficult and long ones such as these were. It would require two days of simmering before the last two ingredients were added, then they would be left to stand for five days before they could be bottled up. The potions, he observed, were the right colour, now a soft shimmering blue― almost silver if one looked at it a certain way. The right texture and, of course, the right consistency. Leaving the room, he closed the door behind him before heading back to the living room.

"Narcissa is looking for you," Pettigrew said, his voice even more sour than it had been ten minutes ago.

"What does she want?" Severus asked, arching an eyebrow in feigned curiosity.

"How should I know?" Pettigrew snapped; she wouldn't tell him, unfortunately. Nobody could have blamed her for that. Pettigrew kept nothing from the Dark Lord, not that he could; he had no mind shields whatsoever. He would never have graduated from Hogwarts if it hadn’t been for Potter’s or Black's help. Severus was still surprised he'd managed to pass the practical.

Severus shook his head, before making his way out of the house he'd grown up in. He was grateful that the Princes had taken pity and given him his rightful inheritance. Otherwise he would have had to put up with the worm the entire time. He would also never have gotten to keep Harry either, come to think of it. He Apparated back to Prince Manor; he was exhausted and quite frankly ready for his bed. The early mornings were starting to exhaust him; he didn't even get up that early at Hogwarts! So his body just wasn't used to it.

He was just about to head up when he noticed a light under the living room door; the living room was not used very often, despite the fact that it was the warmest room in the Manor; Harry wasn't still up, was he? Curiosity got the better of him, and he went to check. Harry was sitting sleeping, conked out over a book, halfway through it as well, which told Severus he'd only fallen asleep recently. Shaking his head, unable to believe what he was about to do, he placed a bookmark in the page Harry was reading, before using a spell to make him light and proceeded to carry his large bundle to bed. He removed his cloak and shoes, but left him with everything else on. Pulling up the duvet he left the book on the nightstand.

He stood staring at the sleeping figure, amazed at how he could look so young and … innocent asleep. Yet awake, he had this aura around him that said he'd seen and experienced too much for his age. Dumbledore was wrong to do what he'd done; he'd screwed Harry's life up. He felt a slight twinge of regret over training Harry, yet he knew he had to. He wanted Harry to survive, and to do that he needed to learn everything he possibly could. It was better than the alternative; at least Harry would live to see it through. He was determined that would be the case; he would get that Horcrux out of him.

He just had to.

Shaking off his maudlin thoughts, he made his way to his bed, plans already circulating on what to teach Harry next. Wards, enchantments, and counter-spells to all sorts of curses. He might not be with Harry through it all, so he had to make sure Harry could counter the spells on the Horcruxes.

\-------------

The next morning found Severus and Harry getting up at a more appropriate time. They were eating breakfast when the newspapers were delivered for the first time this week. Harry immediately began reading it, his eyes going wide and a loud gulp making itself heard in his throat. His green eyes gazed warily up at Severus before he began to read the paper properly.

 

HARRY POTTER THE CHOSEN ONE?

Rumours continue to fly about the mysterious recent disturbance at the Ministry of Magic, during which He Who Must Not Be Named was sighted once more. “We're not allowed to talk about it, don't ask me anything,” said one agitated Obliviator, who refused to give his name as he left the Ministry last night.

Nevertheless, highly placed sources within the Ministry have confirmed that the disturbance centred on the fabled Hall of Prophecy. Though Ministry spokeswizards have hitherto refused even to confirm the existence of such a place, a growing number of the Wizarding community believe that the Death Eaters now serving sentences in Azkaban for trespass and attempted theft were attempting to steal a prophecy. The nature of that prophecy is unknown, although speculation is rife that it concerns Harry Potter, the only person ever known to have survived the Killing Curse, and who is also known to have been at the Ministry on the night in question. Some are going so far as to call Potter the “Chosen One,” believing that the prophecy names him as the only one who will be able to rid us of He Who Must Not Be Named.

The current whereabouts of the prophecy, if it exists, are unknown, although (Cont. page 2, column 5)

"Are they insane?" Harry croaked, staring at the article and feeling sick to his stomach. They didn't even know the prophecy, yet they said things like that? It might fuel Voldemort even more to try to kill him. How could they do that? He was fifteen, not yet of age, and they were basically telling the world that it was okay, Harry would defeat Voldemort. They could just sit at home and be fine, knowing the Chosen One would save them.

Severus refused to comment; he'd rather Harry wasn't reading the papers, but unfortunately he couldn't forbid him.

"Who's Scrimgeour?" Harry asked curiously.

"As it no doubt states, he was Head of the Auror Office in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," Severus said wryly. No doubt Shacklebolt had been newly promoted to Scrimgeour's previous job.

"Whose side is he on, though?" Harry asked. He didn't know who the man was. He stared at picture in front of him; it was black and white, like all other wizarding pictures. Obviously they hadn't figured out colour yet in the wizarding world. They were so backwards, it was unbelievable sometimes, and they thought Muggles were, what? Beneath them? That was a joke. Scrimgeour had a lion-like mane of thick hair and a ravaged face that seemed to go with his hair.

"He’s a Light wizard; it's just a question of how long he lasts," Severus said indifferently. They'd been speaking about it just last night. He was surprised at how quickly it had happened though; they must have kept it extremely quiet. A good thing to do with the Dark Lord looking for the first opening.

"Aurors at Hogwarts?!" Harry said blinking, unsure of how to feel about that.

"A small selection; he appears to care, but that number probably couldn't stop a small invasion, never mind the Dark Lord's inner circle," Severus said, digging into his breakfast, which had just been delivered.

"He's using Inferi?" Harry asked, his heart sinking.

"Unconfirmed, Harry; they are warmongering," Severus said, seemingly unbothered. "If you’re worried, I can show you a spell that will be effective in stopping them. Fire always works; do you know the Fiendfyre spell?"

"Yes, I know of it," Harry said.

"Then it's a spell I'll add to the list," Severus told him. "Now eat your breakfast before he comes." It was Friday, and Harry was to go off with Dumbledore. He would rather Harry didn't go anywhere with the old fool, but he was in no position to say no. Otherwise it would make Dumbledore wonder, and that wasn't something they wanted, Dumbledore digging into their lives right now. No; Harry needed training and if Dumbledore was watching, they couldn't do it.

They could only train for two hours until Harry would have to change before Dumbledore was scheduled to arrive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks a million to Jordre and Jake for editing this :)


	45. Chapter 45

A New Place To Stay  
Chapter 45  
Visiting Slughorn 

"Go shower; Professor Dumbledore will be here soon," Severus told Harry as he stopped. Today they were just using the dummy inside the training room in Prince Manor, as he didn't want to risk Dumbledore’s arriving early and catching them. He knew Dumbledore was curious about how he was treating Harry; he'd been quizzed about it often enough. As always, though, Severus just screwed up his nose and snapped and snarled about him. It was enough to satisfy Dumbledore; it enraged Severus to know he'd been given Harry to make the boy miserable. To think just a few years ago he'd have revelled in having complete control of Harry. He would have treated him despicably, he was ashamed to admit it, but unfortunately Severus wasn't perfect. He could lie and say he did what he did solely because of his duties as a spy, but it would be a falsehood. He'd done it because of the actions of Harry’s father during their childhood years and, for a small part, his duties.

"All right. You sure you don't know what he's planning?" Harry asked warily. Was he being sent to Grimmauld Place? Or worse, the Weasleys? He still loved the rest of them, but Ron was just… annoying. He was no longer the boy he once was, so desperate for friends that he'd accept someone who was constantly jealous of him. No; he had found good friends who didn't do what Dumbledore told them to. Neville had stayed in contact with him; so had Luna, come to that. He knew Dumbledore had asked Neville not to get in touch with him, he had told him so in his first letter. He had been extremely angry to learn that.

"I have no idea," Severus impassively answered; he was just as worried as Harry, probably more so. Dumbledore was up to something; first the Horcrux, and now he wanted to “borrow” Harry? There was definitely something going on. As a spy he didn't like not knowing everything; for Severus it could be the difference between surviving and dying. "Go," he said sharply; otherwise he was going to be late.

Harry merely nodded before leaving the training room. "Leave your second wand in your room," Severus called after him as he ran up the stairs to his room. The tone of voice indicated Severus wasn't happy with having to tell him this. They just couldn't risk Dumbledore finding out about it; if he did, there was little doubt he would realize what they'd been up to. Although better he found out about the training than the fact that they'd been chasing after Horcruxes and had managed to destroy a few. It was obvious that Dumbledore wasn't about to tell them about their existence. He could understand the Order not being told, but Severus believed, deep down, that a few of them should know.

Severus closed and locked the training room door magically, and descended the stairs, ready for Dumbledore's arrival. Harry had successfully mastered the Fiendfyre spell; hopefully it would ease his worry over the Inferi. He shook his head; so much had happened in the past year or so, he wondered often just how Harry felt about it all.

Exactly at the time he said he'd appear, Dumbledore came through the Floo, his multicoloured robes clashing dreadfully with the rest of the room. Severus noticed that Dumbledore looked exhausted; that was what the old coot got for not letting others in on his secret. He often wondered at Dumbledore's reactions if he told him about the Horcruxes they'd already destroyed.

"Albus," Severus said smoothly, his face emotionless as he regarded the man who had admittedly given him a second chance. If one could call it that; he did more for the old fool than he got in return.

"Severus, how is Harry doing?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes twinkling brightly as if he was glad to see him.

"Ask him yourself," Severus replied, his face screwed up in distaste. He truly was a wonderful spy; he never let anything get to him, and always had an appropriate face for all occasions.

"Has HE called?" Dumbledore asked; he looked deeply concerned now.

"No; as far as he's concerned, I'm brewing potions for him," Severus said bitterly. Not to mention having a rat spying on him, while HE sat in Malfoy Manor with his godson. That was something he wasn't happy about at all. Unfortunately, he couldn't do anything about it; he'd rarely had his godson over, and he couldn't change that now. It would be far too dangerous having Draco in the same manor as Harry anyway. He shuddered inwardly just remembering the last time; his godson had performed the light equivalent of the Cruciatus curse. His own actions were just as bad; his anger had gotten the better of him, and had clouded everything, even his better judgement. If he had just looked at Harry instead of seeing what he wanted to see, he would have noticed something was wrong. Still, if he had, he might not have found out about the abuse.

"Still have no idea of his plans?" Dumbledore asked, staring at Severus shrewdly.

"Other than to kill Potter?" Severus asked, stiffening as he noticed Dumbledore paying close attention to him. He either suspected that Severus knew more than he was letting on, or he just wished Severus did.

"You will let me know if that changes?" Dumbledore asked; normally Severus was called more often. Especially during the summer; whatever Voldemort was planning, he was playing it close to his chest. He hoped Severus was not suspected; he needed the information he could get.

"Of course." Severus sounded insulted.

"Thank you," Dumbledore said, relaxing marginally, evidently believing Severus now. "Where is Harry?" he asked, his twinkle returning, staring around curiously.

"Potter!" Severus yelled sharply, hoping he was already out of the shower and dried off.

"Yes, sir?" Harry asked, running into the room, looking apprehensive and out of breath as he stared at Severus.

"Professor Dumbledore is here," Severus said, sneering lightly, before turning away from him, his disgust displayed solely for Dumbledore's benefit.

"Hello, sir," Harry said, a light flush on his cheeks as he remembered the last time he'd spoken to him. Of course it didn't matter whether he’d meant it or not, but he couldn't let Dumbledore know that. So he stared at the floor as if he felt bad for what he'd done. In reality, though, he'd do it all over again. He wondered silently if he'd ever really trusted Dumbledore, or if he'd only deluded himself that the old fool cared. He never had, otherwise he would have trained him. Dumbledore had known about the prophecy his entire life! He could have at least made sure he had decent Defence teachers, or trained him once a night without telling him what was going on. Heaven forbid, though; no, he was supposed to defeat Voldemort knowing next to nothing. Oh, he'd wanted to punch the man for saying that, he'd find a way, his bloody arse! But now that he knew about the Horcrux in him, he realized Dumbledore's plan. He wasn't supposed to survive. That hurt, really, but he wouldn't give up hope. Severus was brilliant… no, beyond brilliant at potions; if anyone could get the Horcrux out of him, it was he.

"Well, Harry… time for us to be off," Dumbledore cheerfully said. "I shall see you later, Severus."

Severus merely nodded, his foot tapping impatiently as if he wanted them out of his manor now.

"Bye," Harry hastily said before stepping in line with Dumbledore, as they left out the front door instead of Floo'ing as Harry had suspected they would do. It was a nice day; if Dumbledore hadn't been coming, he would have trained outside today. Looking at the clear skies, he sighed. How he missed flying! Quidditch he could live without; it was flying that helped him. It made him feel free, made him forget all the bad that had happened as he concentrating on going as far up into the clouds as he could.

"And now, Harry, let us go and pursue the flighty temptress, Adventure," Dumbledore said mysteriously, piquing Harry's curiosity temporarily.

Harry remained quiet as they walked down through the huge garden of Prince Manor. He'd never seen Dumbledore like this, out of official settings. He wondered what the old man was up to, but right now he was just apprehensive, not curious as he once would have been. Yet Dumbledore was relaxed, as if he was simply going for a pack of lemon drops. Still, Harry knew appearances could be deceptive. This was confirmed by Dumbledore's next words; they had Harry's hair on end, and his heart thumping wildly.

"Keep your wand at the ready, Harry," Dumbledore said; his voice, though, was cheerful.

"I'm not allowed to use magic outside of school, sir," Harry pointed out, knowing how he was expected to reply.

"If there's an attack," Dumbledore said, "I give you permission to use any counter-jinx or curse that might occur to you. However, I do not think you need worry about being attacked today."

"Why not, sir?" Harry asked, barely able to keep the sarcasm down. First he tells him to keep his wand on hand, and now he was telling him he wouldn't be attacked? Seriously? He had to make up his mind.

"You’re with me," Dumbledore simply said. "This will do, Harry," he said stopping.

Harry had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. The old man thought very highly of himself; then again, he did have a right to. Voldemort was terrified of Dumbledore, which had probably made Dumbledore's head even bigger.

"You have not, of course, passed your Apparation test?" he asked.

"No, sir; you need to be seventeen," Harry said, biting his lip; it was getting harder than ever to stop his natural... nature from showing. He'd never had a problem until he’d come to live here. He was allowed to be his true self here, and last year he had noticed it had been hard to revert back to the golden boy. Now… it was seemingly impossible to keep his tongue in check.

"You do," Dumbledore cheerfully agreed, "so you will have to hold on to my arm very tightly."

Side-along Apparation it was then; he held onto Dumbledore's arm. He heard Dumbledore speak again, but wasn't paying attention. Everything went black; he felt as though he were being pressed in every direction― he could barely breathe. Then suddenly he was able to breathe again. He had been Apparated once by Severus and already knew the feeling. It didn't get any better, he realized; it still felt as though you were being sucked through a very thin rubber tube. Harry looked around curiously. Prince Manor had, of course, disappeared, and now they were in what looked like a deserted village square, in the centre of which stood an old war memorial and a few benches.

"Are you all right?" Dumbledore asked. "The sensations do take some getting used to." He sounded as though he cared, which made Harry hate him all the more.

"I'm fine," Harry said blandly. Truth be told, he hated Floo'ing and Apparating; he'd prefer riding a broom anywhere. Unfortunately, that just made one a big target, or rather, a bigger target in his case.

Dumbledore merely smiled and drew his travelling cloak around him more tightly. "This way," he stated, and they set off at a brisk pace. Harry had no trouble keeping up; Severus was faster! And he had been running for a few years now.

"So tell me, Harry," Dumbledore began, "has your scar been hurting at all?"

"No," Harry automatically said— not that he would tell him if it did bother him.

Dumbledore nodded as if he had suspected as much, "It appears that Lord Voldemort is now employing Occlumency against you." At least that was his thinking, since Harry had not had a vision for a long time. If he had, surely the boy would have told his godfather, and Sirius in turn would have informed him.

Harry had to keep his amusement to himself; the thought of Voldemort being scared of him was funny indeed. "Where exactly are we, sir?" Harry asked, as they passed a bus stop and a telephone box.

"This, Harry, is the charming village of Budleigh Babberton," Dumbledore said cheerfully.

"What exactly are we doing here?" Harry asked. Were they even going after Horcruxes, or was Dumbledore up to something else? He wasn't sure which one he preferred.

"Ah, yes, of course; I haven't told you," Dumbledore said. "Well, I've lost count of the number of times I’ve said this in recent years. But we are, once again, one member of staff short. We are here to persuade an old colleague of mine to come out of retirement and return to Hogwarts."

"How can I help with that, Sir?" Harry asked without thinking, then his stomach sank as he realized how. He was going to be dangled around like bloody bait for some old teacher to return to Hogwarts. They must be going to see Slughorn, the man Severus had spoken about. Oh no, he was on his way to visit another Lockhart, and he wanted to stop and scream at Dumbledore for using him yet again.

"Oh, I think we'll find a use for you," Dumbledore said. "Left here, Harry."

Harry fumed silently the rest of the way to Slughorn's house, wherever that might be.

"Oh dear, oh dear, dear, dear," Dumbledore suddenly said.

Harry's head snapped up at Dumbledore's grave tone, and then he saw it. The door had been torn off its hinges. Harry grabbed his wand. He didn't care what Dumbledore thought about his fast reaction, but he'd be damned if he let himself be hurt playing “Harry Potter.” They walked the rest of the way up the garden path; Dumbledore had his wand out and cast a Lumos as he pushed the broken door open further.

"Follow me, Harry," Dumbledore said, the illuminated wand leading the way. Harry was right behind Dumbledore, keeping an eye on his back. A scene of total devastation met their eyes; the entire place had been destroyed. It was as though they'd been looking for something or someone. Well, it looked as though the new teacher was going to be a new record, thought Harry; he wouldn’t even manage to make it into Hogwarts before something happened. Then Dumbledore moved his wand, and Harry caught his breath; blood was oozing all over the wallpaper. No matter who it was, nobody deserved that, even if the person was like Lockhart.

"Not pretty, is it?" Dumbledore commented, his voice heavy; obviously he was upset by what had happened. Harry had to wonder rather viciously if it was his plans he cared more about, or the person. "Yes, something terrible happened here," he finished, moving into the middle of the room.

Harry gazed at him as if to say, “No shit.” The entire house was destroyed, and it looked as though someone had died—although he wasn't used to the idea of Death Eaters, or the Dark Lord, cleaning up after themselves.

Harry jumped and whirled around when he heard a man's voice yell, “Ouch!” He gaped when he saw that it was an armchair that had made the sound. Then the armchair changed into a man, who was massaging his belly, where Dumbledore had evidently poked him. "There was no need to stick the wand in that hard," he said gruffly, getting to his feet. "It hurt."

Harry snorted; he wasn't very tough, was he? And this was his new Potions teacher? Well… he wondered what Potions was going to be like this year, that was for sure. He was rather impressed though; he couldn't wait to ask Severus about how to do that. Transfigure yourself into an armchair! You could hide in plain sight― he was amazed, really amazed.

"What gave it away?" the man asked, put out.

"My dear Horace," Dumbledore replied, looking amused, "if the Death Eaters really had come to call, the Dark Mark would have been set over the house."

Harry realized the man had done it himself; he'd destroyed his own house in an attempt to make Dumbledore leave him alone.

"The Dark Mark," he muttered. "I knew there was something… ah, well. Wouldn't have had time, anyway. I'd only just put the finishing touches to the upholstery when you entered the room."

"Would you like my assistance clearing up?" Dumbledore asked.

"Please," Slughorn said.

Then Harry watched both of them stand together, waving their wands around in identical sweeping motions. The entire room flew back together, fixing itself as good as new. Now Harry would have been impressed, if he hadn't seen Severus use that spell to clean up an entire house in less time. He did force himself to look around in awe as he listened to them go on about the blood on the wall.

"Oho," he said loudly. Harry stared at him, but Slughorn's attention wasn't on him… no, it was on his forehead. The scar he'd had since he was a baby, that identified who he was in this world before he could get a word out. Too bad the Dark Lord hadn't tried to hit his arse instead! That would be a sight, someone staring at his backside to see if he really was Harry Potter. He bit his lip to stop himself from asking Slughorn if he wanted a closer look as he continued to repeat himself.

"This," Dumbledore said moving closer to Harry, "Is Harry Potter. Harry, this is an old friend and colleague of mine, Horace Slughorn."

"So that's how you thought you'd persuade me, is it? Well, the answer's no, Albus," Slughorn said, and Harry felt respect for the man; he evidently wasn't as stupid as he looked. He did look away as if he were a man resisting temptation, and Harry just knew before the end of the day the man would agree to come.

"I suppose we can have a drink at least?" Dumbledore asked, "For old times' sake?"

"Alright then, one drink," Horace said ungraciously, knowing Dumbledore was still going to try.

Harry bit his lip to stop himself from shrugging off Dumbledore's hold, which had guided him into the lightest part of the room. Wanting to make him as visible as possible, no doubt, and when Slughorn turned around he realized this too. It seemed they were both on the same wavelength when it came to Dumbledore's machinations.

"Humph," Slughorn said, looking away from Harry as if he was a tasty beer and Slughorn was an alcoholic. "Here," he gave the drink to Dumbledore and thrust a tray at Harry before sitting down. This was just ridiculous; he was being treated like a leper, and he did not bloody appreciate it.

"How have you been keeping, Horace?" Dumbledore asked, looking concerned.

"Not so well," Slughorn said at once. "Weak chest. Wheezy. Rheumatism too. Can't move like I used to. Well, that's to be expected. Old age. Fatigue."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"And yet you must have moved fairly quickly to prepare such a welcome for us at such short notice. You can't have had more than three minutes warning?" Dumbledore brightly suggested.

"Two. Didn't hear my intruder Charm go off; I was taking a bath." Still he added, "The fact remains, I'm an old man, Albus. A tired old man who's earned the right to a quiet life and a few creature comforts," Slughorn said proudly, and irritatedly.

"You’re not as old as I am Horace," Dumbledore said, standing up abruptly.

Slughorn stared at him hopefully. "Are you leaving?"

"No; I was wondering whether I might use the bathroom?" Dumbledore replied.

"Oh," Slughorn said, sounding disappointed. "Second on the left down the hall."

Slughorn shot a furtive look at Harry. "Don't think I don't know why he's brought you," he said grudgingly.

"Yes, because everyone loves being dangled around like bait," Harry retorted, cursing inwardly. Shoot, he shouldn't have said that. "Just how long are you going to pretend you haven't already decided to come?"

"You look like your father, you know," Slughorn said, changing the subject.

"So I've been told," Harry bluntly agreed.

"Except for your eyes, you have…."

"I know, I have my mother eyes," Harry said, exasperated. He was sick of being compared to both his parents whenever he met someone. Even Remus Lupin had first commented on it when they’d met.

"Humph, yes, well… you shouldn't have favourites when you’re a teacher, of course, but she was one of mine. Your mother," Slughorn added as if he thought Harry didn't understand what he meant. "Lily Evans was one of the brightest I ever taught. Vivacious, you know, charming girl. I used to tell her she should have been in my House; very cheeky answers I used to get back, too."

"I wouldn't know; she died before I could remember her," Harry sniped back. Perhaps he was more like his mother than he had ever been told. "Which house?" Harry asked, despite already knowing.

"I was Head of Slytherin house," Slughorn replied. Then he went on about Sirius and Regulus. Harry began to realize he was sort of a collector. He prattled on for a while longer, but Harry only listened in with half an ear ... replying with barely any enthusiasm as Slughorn was showing him old pictures of former students.

"Oh there you are, Albus," Slughorn said. "You've been in there a very long time. Upset stomach?"

"No; I was merely reading the Muggle magazine," Dumbledore answered, his eyes twinkling brightly as he observed both of them. "I do love knitting patterns. Well, Harry, we have trespassed upon Horace's hospitality quite long enough; I think it's time for us to leave."

You have, thought Harry bitterly; it wasn't as if he'd asked to come here.

"You're leaving?" Slughorn asked looking taken aback.

"Yes indeed, I think I know a lost cause when I see one," Dumbledore said, fastening his travelling cloak around him. Harry was doing the same, but his was a Muggle jacket, and he zipped it up. He rolled his eyes when none of them were looking; honestly, they all knew Slughorn'd be at Hogwarts for the new year starting.

"Lost?" Slughorn asked, and Harry realized Slughorn wasn't as smart as he had first thought.

"Well, I'm sorry you don't want the job, Horace," Dumbledore said. "Hogwarts would have been glad to see you back again. Our greatly increased security notwithstanding, you will always be welcome to visit, should you wish to."

"Yes…well…very gracious as I say…"

"Goodbye then," Dumbledore said; he knew without a doubt Horace would agree before they left.

"Bye," Harry simply said, wondering when the shove would come and Slughorn would suddenly agree. As they left the house, Harry was beginning to think Slughorn wouldn't say anything, then a shout from within confirmed Harry's suspicions.

"All right, all right, I'll do it!" he said, exasperated—and maybe desperate?

"You will come out of retirement?" Dumbledore asked sounding shocked, as if he truly thought Slughorn was merely teasing him.

"Yes, yes," Slughorn muttered. "I must be mad, but yes."

"Wonderful!" Dumbledore happily cried. "Then we shall see you on the first of September!"

"Yes, I dare say you will," Slughorn said dryly. Harry smirked at him from behind Dumbledore's back. Slughorn realized Harry was more like his mother than his father; the conversation they'd had, the dry wit…no doubt Lily had got it from Severus, but he did wonder where Harry had gotten it from.

"I want a pay raise, Dumbledore!" he said as they left, causing Dumbledore to chuckle.

They were Apparated to Prince Manor once again; it was getting dark now. Harry wondered just how long he'd been away.

"Harry, it is my wish that you take private lessons with me this year," Dumbledore said, before Harry could walk back to the manor.

"Private, with you?" Harry asked in surprise. What on earth was Dumbledore planning? Had he changed his mind and decided to train him? He knew that wasn't possible; Dumbledore didn't change his mind. He was a stubborn bull.

"Yes. I think it is time I took a greater hand in your education," Dumbledore explained.

"What will you be teaching me, sir?" Harry asked, digging for information.

"Oh, a little of this, a little of that," Dumbledore airily responded.

"Yes, sir," Harry said; it didn't look like he'd find out until the time came, then.

"I also must ask you, Harry, to keep your invisibility cloak with you at all times, especially at Hogwarts. Just in case, do you understand me?" Dumbledore asked, looking at him intently.

"Yes, sir," Harry acknowledge. Now that had Harry curious… why did Dumbledore want him to keep his cloak with him at all times? Did he think school children were going to kidnap him and send him to the Dark Lord?

"Very well. Go on then; tell Severus I shall see him soon," Dumbledore said.

Harry screwed up his face at the thought of talking to Severus, "Yes, sir," he grumbled before walking away from him. Once he heard the familiar pop of Apparation, his face became angry, his hands balled up; he just wanted to curse everything and anything. He hated being played, and even more he hated his fame being used.

"How did it go?" Severus asked when Harry made his way into the manor. Severus was waiting for him by the stairs; judging by the look on Harry's face ― not very well at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the dedication you put into editing this story - Jake and Jordre you're both amazing.


	46. Chapter 46

A New Place To Stay   
Chapter 46   
A Potion For The Horcrux & Going Back To Hogwarts 

 

"He took me to see Slughorn," Harry said bitterly, his body thrumming with tension begging to break free. He needed to run; otherwise he knew he would explode. He was glad Severus had showed him a way to help; if he hadn't, another Marge incident would have happened long before this. He felt so angry all the time― was it normal? Or just him? He didn't know and didn't like it regardless. "He took the bait; and Dumbledore wants me to take private lessons with him."

"Did he say why?" Severus asked, his eyes narrowed in contemplation. What was Dumbledore up to now? Why the lessons? He'd been adamant about not training him, so what was going on? He would know sooner or later, since Hogwarts was starting back up pretty soon. He still didn't like his son spending so much time with Dumbledore, not with what he suspected that Dumbledore believed must happen. He had a feeling Dumbledore knew Harry was a Horcrux. As he’d told Harry, he doubted Dumbledore would actually hurt him. He would never dirty his own hands; he hadn't even truly defeated Grindelwald. He had only imprisoned him—in his own prison, no less, which added insult to injury.

"No; he wouldn't say," Harry answered, calming a few degrees now that he had been able to talk to someone. It was amazing the difference it made, having someone there. Talking did help him feel better, not just about this, but about everything else as well. He no longer had such violent nightmares about Cedric and the final task. They were still there; they just didn't wake him up in a cold sweat as they’d used to. Severus had, of course, been right ― talking through it helped. He no longer doubted Severus; was it odd to wish he'd grown up with Severus as a father? Then again, compared to the Dursleys, anyone would have been better... even Fudge.

"Well, there is nothing that can be done about it for now; why don't you go read the rest of your book― I have something I need to do," said Severus. He could relax now that Harry was back and Dumbledore hadn't tried anything. He had been in his lab the entire time Harry was gone. He believed he might be close to finding out how to remove the Horcrux. The only dangerous thing about it was the fact that he had no way to test it. There wasn't anyone else walking about with a Horcrux imbedded in him, after all. No, he had to be absolutely, positively sure it would work. He couldn't risk harming Harry for nothing.

"Can I run first?" Harry asked; he desperately needed to let off some steam.

"Of course. If you need me, just call Dobby." Severus nodded at his son, letting him know without words that he would always be there for him. He wasn't an overly emotional man; he wasn't one for speaking what he felt. He let it show through his actions. It was a miracle Severus could be kind, especially with the childhood he'd had. All Severus had known was anger, abuse, fighting, and drinking. Life hadn't been easy; the fact that Severus had overcome it meant he was strong, strong enough to see Harry was tough enough to fight his own past.

"I will," Harry assured him before he turned back around and left through the door he'd just entered. He stayed within the wards, which were keeping him safe, and began running around the pitch. Harry had often wondered why there was a pitch; nobody in the Prince family had liked Quidditch, or had ever played it professionally. They had always had a flair for potions― in fact there were a few very handy potions by the Prince family line. It was much easier to think about inconsequential things rather than what was really on his mind. The world was becoming a much darker place; he could sense it even from behind the Manor walls. Worse still, the Muggles had no idea what was happening; they were totally oblivious to it. The Ministry had been fabricating events for each attack, so people watching the news had no clue as to the real deal. The world Severus had warned him about was emerging; people were terrified. To make matters worse, the world was relying on him. The papers had let that particular cat out of the bag; whether it was true or not, people would believe it. They needed something to believe in... but why couldn't it be Dumbledore? thought Harry viciously as he ran past the beginning, now on his second lap around the pitch.

Half an hour later, Harry made his way back into the manor. Dobby gave him some late dinner. He'd not had anything at Slughorn's, for good reason, really. Not that he'd been offered anything, he thought bitterly as he ate his onion soup; with the fresh bread, it tasted absolutely divine. Harry couldn't help but wonder where Severus was; he'd been rather quiet lately. Normally Severus had him training all the time, whether it was potions, runes, or defence. He had managed to cast the Fiendfyre spell successfully, so if he was confronted with Inferi, he'd know what to do. Rumours or not, Harry didn't want to take any chances. He was through getting by on “sheer dumb luck” as McGonagall had called it back in first year.

"Thank you, Dobby," Harry said as the house elf removed his empty bowl and spoon.

"Does Master Harry require anything else?" Dobby asked, his green eyes filled with adoration as he concentrated on “his” Harry. He'd lay down his life for him; Harry had, after all, saved him from the bad Malfoys. Not only that, but Master Harry had treated him like an equal since meeting him, letting him sit next to him, and stopping Dobby from punishing himself.

Dobby had been taking lessons on speaking from Severus; the word require was a dead giveaway. Dobby would never have said such a word, especially not when Harry had first met him. In fact, the elf had not been able to speak properly; Harry guessed abuse and disdain would do that to anyone. Plus Dobby probably hadn't been allowed to talk; the Malfoys truly were as evil as they came. Beating a defenceless― okay, that was laughable, since Dobby could defend himself... rather violently too, he thought as he remembered Malfoy falling way down the hall. Harry suppressed his smirk, just remembering Dobby's words: “You shall not harm Harry Potter!” He'd looked so satisfied, too. There truly was no other house-elf quite like him.

"No, thank you, Dobby," Harry said, standing up. Now that he was in a better mood, he decided some reading was in order. One thing was for certain, he wasn't going to have a problem with classes this year. He was well read, and ahead with his books for the school year. Normally Harry didn't have that chance; hell, even his homework was finished again.

"Yes, sir," Dobby said before he disappeared, probably off to clean some more.

Harry had just gotten into his room and picked up the book when there was a knock at the door. He knew it wasn't the elves, since they didn't knock; it had to be Severus. Curiously he opened the door; true enough it was Severus. He had a black potion in his hands, and a very satisfied air around him.

"Do you have a moment?" Severus asked, stepping into the room when Harry gestured for him to come in. As always, Severus noted, Harry's room was very tidy; his books were lined up, the one he was reading on the table beside his bed. His homework was piled neatly into his open trunk. Harry loved the room, and he knew why. That blasted cupboard... well, the Dursleys no doubt deeply regretted that one. They were still rats, and unfortunately he still fed them; he might be vindictive, but he wasn't that bad. Or so he told himself, anyway.

"Yes; I was just about to read," Harry said, wondering what his father-figure wanted. Did it have something to do with the potion in his hand?

"This potion should remove the Horcrux; I have nobody else I can test it on. I'm not one hundred percent certain it will work, Harry; what I do know is, if it doesn't, it won't harm you in any way," Severus honestly explained.

"I'll try it," said Harry. He trusted Severus more than anyone else in this world. If he said it wouldn't hurt him, then he knew it wouldn't. Severus wasn't the youngest potions Master in the world for nothing. He knew, though, that if it didn't work, not only would he be disappointed, but Severus would be too.

"Lie down; it might make you dizzy," Severus curtly directed, obviously back to business. He was a little apprehensive about the potion, but he'd gone over the ingredients ten times already. There truly shouldn't be anything that could cause Harry harm—other than removing the Horcrux, that was. But only if it worked; if not, he would have to start his search all over again. Severus watched his son in all but blood lie down, trusting him with his life. It made his heart swell, but of course none of this showed. Severus wasn't a man who showed anything other than anger. He didn't wear his heart on his sleeve, and he'd help Harry refrain from doing so as well. "Here," he said as he uncorked the vial and handed it over, his heart pounding away in his chest. This was it, the moment of truth; he prayed it would work, that finally he'd discovered a way to protect Harry, and that the horrific hold Voldemort had on his son would be gone.

Harry took a deep breath, before he flung the potion back, swallowing it without tasting it first. It was a good thing, too; it was perhaps the foulest potion he'd ever consumed since entering the wizarding world. The room spun around, and Harry “whoa'ed” in alarm. He closed his eyes, stopping his stomach from expelling his recently consumed meal. Then he felt it, a tugging at his forehead, and one behind his stomach. It felt like a Portkey, that was the only way he could describe it. The tugging continued; it didn't hurt, but he could feel it deep inside. After a few minutes the tugging ceased, as if it no longer had the power to continue. When Harry opened his eyes, he saw that Severus was crouched down, observing him worriedly. Harry shook off the lingering effects.

"What happened?" Severus questioned, once he saw Harry had recovered; he had his potions book open on Harry's bed. The quill was poised, hovering over the book waiting to write something down.

"It felt like a Portkey. It was tugging at my head and stomach; it kept tugging and tugging until it stopped," Harry described. "The dizziness didn't last long, but it was enough to make me feel sick." He knew he had to be honest, otherwise it wouldn't help at all. Normally Harry wouldn't say anything, because compared to what he was used to feeling, this was child's play.

"Look at me," Severus demanded. Harry already knew what was going to happen: they'd find out if it succeeded or not. Harry nodded that he was ready, looking his father in the eye as Severus cast the spell. Harry had to stop himself from fighting; being so used to keeping his mind closed, it took a great deal of concentration and magic to keep his shields down. Then the searching stopped; Severus had found what he was looking for. Then he withdrew, being careful not to hurt Harry as he did.

"It didn't work." Severus' disappointment was evident. It had moved; it didn't take Severus as long to find it. That meant he was on the right track; he just needed to make the potion stronger. He didn't know how the hell he was going to accomplish it, but he would. His mind was already going over the ingredients he'd used and how he could potentially make it stronger, more resilient, so it could pull the Horcrux out; maybe he needed to transfer it, rather than get rid of it.

"It worked a bit, I could feel it… it was like elastic being stretched, but not enough to separate it," Harry contradicted.

"Yes, from your own magical core," Severus said. It might damage Harry's core if they succeeded. What was more dangerous? The Horcrux being inside Harry or the potential loss of magic? Not all magic of course, but some might be lost in the process— including the potential loss of his ability to talk to snakes. There was no point in thinking about that now; this potion hadn't worked, so he would need to concentrate on the potion at hand. He would have to discuss it with Harry properly, so he was indeed aware of the possibilities. "Do you need anything?" Severus asked once he closed his book; he had finished writing everything Harry had described.

"No, I'm fine," Harry replied, shaking his head.

"Very well. Goodnight." With that Severus left the room, closing Harry's door as he did. His thoughts were focused solely on the potion. He didn't return to the dungeons; instead, he went down for something to eat.

"Dobby, bring me something to eat," Severus requested as he sat down in the dining room. For the most part he demanded all meals be eaten in here, unless Harry was hurt. That had been the only exception. A bowl of steaming onion soup was placed in front of him, as well as three pieces of freshly baked bread.

"Has Harry had dinner?" Severus asked as he dug into his meal.

"Yes, sir," Dobby replied immediately; he left once he saw Severus no longer needed him. He wondered what was on the agenda for this year; his green eyes gleamed with wickedness as he thought of all that had happened last year. He had been allowed to help in the revenge on those who'd hurt his Harry Potter. Umbridge would never again hurt his wizard. Or anyone else, come to that; she had died of her illnesses, which St. Mungo's hadn’t been able to find a cure for. Dumbledore had been a surprise. He hadn't really wanted to do anything to such a powerful wizard, yet after Master Severus had explained, he'd been all too eager to help. Bad Dumbledore shouldn't be hurting his wizard in any shape or form. His Harry finally had someone who cared, and Dobby really liked him.

"Harry, sir," Dobby said as he popped in, surprising Harry, who was deeply engrossed in his book.

"What's wrong, Dobby?" Harry asked, finishing the last of his sentence before looking up. The more difficult the books got, the more interesting they became. He could see why Granger liked reading so much; there was just so much knowledge out there waiting for someone to devour it. He needed this, if he had any hope of surviving this war.

"Your mail." Dobby handed it over; it had already been checked for curses, hexes, jinxes, and anything else that could possibly be put in the mail. There had been nothing wrong with them, and so Dobby, loyal as always, was taking them to his wizard.

"Thank you, Dobby," Harry said, taking the envelopes eagerly; he could tell from the writing whose letter was which. Sirius, Neville, Luna, and another one, but Harry didn't recognize the writing. Knowing that it was safe was the only reason he dared open that letter. Severus had told him what the Dark Lord used to do, how he'd gotten to his enemies: portkeyed letters, cursed letters, charms imbued in the letters ripping all wards down.

Harry opened the letter, looking at the bottom, to find that it was from the Weasley twins. He'd not been in touch with any of them since his falling out with Ron. He was curious as to what they could want; they'd told everyone they weren't coming back to Hogwarts this year.

Hey Harry, 

Ron's really pissed off by the way, about us coming to the Ministry with you instead of him. Anyway, we just want to let you know our shop has taken off. We've finally bought premises and a flat above the shop, where we are staying now. 

Here's a Gringotts' check, it's one month's percentage of the shop's profit. We need your vault number to deposit the money in next month. We will send you a box of our products ―free of course ―as our financial backer. 

We started off making Shield Hats, as a joke; you know, dare your friend to hex you and watch the curse bounce back. Then the Ministry bought all five hundred we had in stock. We've now expanded it to Shield cloaks and gloves. Sure, they won't be much good against Unforgivable curses, but they will help. Then there's Decoy detonators, makes a noise while you move away, keeping anyone off your back. We've even created instant darkness powder, handy if you need a quick get-away. We will be sending you one of each; hopefully you will get a use out of it. 

Gred and Forge 

Harry was surprised they'd bought premises already; they must be doing really well to be able to do that so soon. He was surprised they'd bothered to give him a percentage. He hated Ron… and Percy after that letter he'd sent. Such an idiot, abandoning the family for a career with Fudge. Hopefully he'd get his head out of his arse... especially, Merlin forbid, before one of them died. He, Harry, might not be close with them anymore, but it didn't mean he didn't care about them. It would devastate him if anything happened; he'd saved Ginny's and Arthur's lives, for goodness sake. Well, actually Severus had saved Arthur's life― if not for his fast actions, he would have died.

Harry, 

I'm surprised your homework is already done; me and your father always left it to the last minute. I guess Snape's being a hard arse about it? He was always one to have his homework in on time at school. He was a real teacher's pet; Slughorn always went easy on him. He wouldn't understand fun if it bit him on his abnormally large nose. 

Have you been having any visions lately? I hope not! You do know you can tell me if you do, don't you? You can talk to me about anything. Don't think I haven't noticed you don't anymore. When will you tell me about what happened with your friends? Why did I have to find out about it from Professor Dumbledore? 

Bill and Fleur are engaged, they are planning on marrying next year. Ron was a good friend, Harry; he's devastated by whatever has come between you. Even Hermione wasn't her usual self when they were visiting. Your father always got angry at me, but we made up in the end; hopefully you will find it in you to make up with Ron too. 

Padfoot 

P.S - What would you like for your birthday? 

Harry shook his head, no matter how much he tried, Sirius always found something, or the lack of something, to compare him to his father. Every single letter, contained your father this, your father that. Why couldn't Sirius see him for his own man? Maybe once he was out of Hogwarts and not an Auror it might penetrate his godfather's thick skull that he wasn't James bloody Potter. He was through trying to be what everyone expected him to be. This year he was going to let some of his true personality shine through. He couldn't keep playing Gryffindor's Golden boy much longer.

They wanted him to be a leader? Well then, that's what they'd get. A sarcastic leader, but one nevertheless.

 

\--------------0

September - Kings Cross Station - Hogwarts Express 

Harry made his way onto the train, unobserved by everyone; they were all too worried and anxious to care about a student wandering off by himself. The past few weeks had been a surprise to say the least. When he'd gotten his O.W.L results, Severus had been proud of him. He hadn't just said he was, Harry had seen it with his own eyes. Severus’ eyes had been warm and filled with pride; only for a short minute, but it had been there. It meant more than anything else in the world. The real surprise had come later that day, in the form of a brand-new broomstick. He'd been given the day off, and Harry hadn't argued― he'd gone straight to the pitch. All the tension that had been mounting all year had bled away when he'd once again flown on a broomstick. It had been well worth the effort, training. He'd made Severus proud; he had someone who was proud of him. He'd never felt so happy, accomplished, or proud of his own abilities before. Ten owls he'd passed, and History of Magic was Exceeded Expectations only because of the vision.

ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL RESULTS 

Pass Grades: Outstanding (O) Exceeded Expectations (E) Acceptable (A)   
Fail Grades: Poor (P) Dreadful (D)Troll (T)

HARRY JAMES POTTER   
Astronomy: O  
Care of Magical Creatures: O  
Charms: O  
Defence Against the Dark Arts: O  
Divination: O  
Herbology: O  
History of Magic: E  
Potions: O  
Transfiguration: O  
Healing Course: O

Dumbledore had interfered with his life again, taking him to Grimmauld Place for his birthday. Unsurprisingly, Ron and Hermione, as well as the Weasleys and the majority of the Order, had been there. It had been more like a party, but Harry's heart hadn't been in it. Not even all the presents had lifted his mood; he'd just wanted a quiet day brewing potions with someone who genuinely cared about him. They only wanted their weapon, their hero, at the end of the day. Harry knew he shouldn't feel like that. For years he'd wanted a party; when it finally came, he just felt as if it were the wrong time. There was a war going on outside; people were dying, and here they were playing happy families. Then again, overhearing the others talking, he realized they did know. It was all just a front for the 'kids'. He overheard that Karkaroff had been found dead, in the Shrieking Shack of all places. Also that Fortescue and Ollivander had disappeared. Thankfully he'd been sent home after “dinner,” which had admittedly been beautiful. Molly Weasley did know how to cook. Harry had taken Severus a piece of cake home with him, showing Severus he hadn't forgotten him.

Harry, unfortunately, wasn't unobserved for long. As he got on the train, people were pressing their noses against their compartment windows just to get a look at him. Harry shuddered. He hated the spotlight’s being on him; why couldn't people leave him alone? Damn the Daily Prophet.

"Hi, Harry!" a familiar voice said. Harry whirled around and was extremely pleased to see Neville again.

"Nev! Want to get a compartment before they're all gone?" Harry asked.

"Hi, Harry," Luna said, coming up behind Neville; they were never far from one another anymore.

"Hi, Luna, how are you?" Harry asked. They finally saw an empty compartment and piled themselves in. Harry's backpack had a few galleons in it, his uniform, his shrunken trunk, and, of course, his invisibility cloak.

"They're staring at us, because we’re with you," Neville complained, looking extremely uncomfortable.

"That's what you think; they are staring at you because you were at the Ministry," Harry corrected, smirking wryly.

"Oh, that," Neville said sheepishly, "Thought Gran would be angry, but she was really pleased. She was going to give me a new wand; I had to tell her about it. She was over the moon! I'm finally living up to my dad at long last."

"You shouldn't try and live up to your dad, Neville," Harry gently rebuked, shaking his head.

"I've tried to tell him that too," Luna said wryly.

The three of them continued talking quite happily about their summers ―Harry omitting certain things. They thanked each other for their presents, and said how happy they were to be going back to Hogwarts.

"I have something I need to tell you about," Harry said. "When we get to the Room of Requirement, of course."

"Is this about what the Prophet said?" Luna asked, staring at him with her strange enormous coloured spectacles.

Neville stopped trying to get Trevor to do what he wanted, staring at Harry as well.

"They weren't right, were they?" Neville looked horrified as he asked, but he seemed resigned as if he already suspected it was true.

Harry nodded solemnly.

"How do you feel about that?" Luna asked sympathetically.

They had paid for their sweets as the cart came around, so they were surprised when suddenly someone burst into the compartment.

"Hi, Harry, I'm Romilda, Romilda Vane," she said, pushing her black hair back. "Why don't you join us in our compartment so you don't have to sit here, with them?"

Harry snorted at how confident she was that he would accept her offer. "They just happen to be my friends. So why don't you toddle off to your own compartment before I hex you… and maybe you'll find out what I did to Voldemort."

She squeaked, terrified, rushing past her two friends to get out of the compartment before running down the corridor squealing fearfully. Neville and Luna were also staring at him wide-eyed. They had not expected their friend to act in such a way, but they got over it quickly. They all burst into peals of laughter; ironically enough, it was just as Ron passed. He stared at them with jealousy and sadness ―for the sweets he usually shared with Harry― written across his face, before he walked off.

"You know, I feel kind of sorry for him," Neville said. "Unfortunately, he learned all too late that you shouldn't be taken for granted."

"Damn right," Harry agreed, shaking his head.

"I don't―" Whatever Luna was going to say was cut off as yet again the compartment door opened.

"I'm supposed to deliver these to Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter," the third-year said, her face going bright red upon mentioning the name of the Boy-Who-Lived.

Neville and Harry shared a brief confused look before accepting the letters; she stumbled back and left the compartment. Shaking their heads, both of them opened their letters and read the contents.

"What is it?" Luna asked curiously, her nose coming back out of her Quibbler.

"An invitation," Neville answered. "Who's Slughorn?"

"He's the new teacher," Harry said, looking like he'd rather puke his guts up than do anything it suggested.

'Harry, 

I would be delighted if you would join me for a bite of lunch in compartment C. 

Sincerely, Professor H.E.F. Slughorn' 

"What does he want from me?" Neville asked, confused.

"Good question. He's a collector, he likes making friends with people who will go on to do something worthwhile in the wizarding world or people who are related to someone influential," Harry explained. "He taught our parents, Neville."

"Oh," Neville said. This invitation just made the poor guy even more nervous; living up to his parents was a hard thing to do. Harry knew that, and wished Neville wouldn't try; it wasn't healthy. He should know, he'd tried for four years to live up to his parents; whatever he'd done... it hadn't been enough. "Are you going?" Neville looked like he'd rather have the plague or eat his own intestine.

"No," Harry said, shaking his head, "I'm not going to sit there and listen to him prattle on about me and stuff I've done."

Neville looked relieved.

"Strange, isn't it?" Luna said, her head cocked to the side.

"What?" Neville asked, both he and Harry staring at her curiously.

"Malfoy hasn't come in; he always comes in," Luna explained.

"He's probably bothering the younger students," Harry shrugged his shoulders, although Luna did raise an interesting point. Malfoy had been ignoring him anyway, ever since that day during the summer last year. Severus had given him detention all last year; hopefully the idiot had learned his lesson. He'd seen Draco's face after he’d cast the spell, before he'd fallen unconscious. Malfoy had been deadly pale, almost sick-looking; Harry knew he didn't have the guts to be a Death Eater. Still, it was curious… what was Malfoy doing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Jake and Jordre for editing this :)


	47. Chapter 47

A New Place To Stay  
Chapter 47   
Surprises good and bad 

Harry moved fluidly, keeping out of everyone's way; with most people in the compartments, he had no trouble navigating the train. He had to jerk away when Zabini almost bumped into him outside one compartment. When the Slytherin opened the compartment door, Malfoy's blond hair shone like a beacon. So that's where he was; the compartment door was closed again, and Harry couldn't hear very well. Malfoy had looked paler than normal, even with Pansy playing with his hair. He normally loved all attention being on him― Harry did wonder what was up with the blond. Harry's eyes lit up; he had one of the Extendable Ears. Silently thanking Fred and George, he pulled it out and slid it unseen under the door. Placing the second piece of the prank item into his ear, he could hear everything as though he was actually in the room with them.

"So, Zabini, what did Slughorn want?" Harry heard the blond say. Harry rolled his eyes, was he the only one not fascinated by the overweight, fame-seeking idiot?

"Just trying to make up to well-connected people," Zabini replied with a snort. "Not that he managed to find many." Harry grinned in amusement; it seemed as though he wasn't the only one that knew Slughorn's game. Oh, he wished he could see the look on his face, when he realized neither he nor Neville was coming. There was silence for a few minutes; how Harry wished he could see everyone's faces.

"Who else did he invite?" the Malfoy heir demanded imperiously.

"McLaggen from Gryffindor," Zabini said.

"Oh yeah, his uncle's big in the Ministry," Malfoy remarked.

"Belby from Ravenclaw," Zabini continued.

"He's a prat!" Pansy commented, her voice filled with disgust.

Harry couldn't help but agree. A first for everything.

"That Weasley girl," Zabini finished. "He spoke about Potter and Longbottom; he was disappointed when they didn't appear."

Harry could imagine Zabini rolling his eyes and a sneer on his lips.

"He invited Longbottom?" Malfoy asked; there was no mistaking the resentful tone in his voice.

"Yes, but he didn't show." Zabini was getting bored.

"What's Longbottom got to interest Slughorn?" the blond asked, incredulity deep in his voice. There was silence for a moment, then, "Potter, precious Potter, obviously he wanted to look at the Chosen One," Malfoy sneered. "What's so special about the Weasley girl?"

"A lot of boys like her," Pansy remarked. "Even you think she's good-looking, don't you, Blaise? And we all know how hard you are to please!"

Harry snorted. A boy like him… hard to please? Well, that was ironic. He winced at his own thoughts; what the hell was he doing thinking like that? He wasn't exactly good-looking himself, and his dad wasn't, either. Severus would never be considered a good-looking man, and he felt ashamed of himself, as if he had been the one Harry thought about, not Zabini.

"I wouldn't touch a filthy little blood traitor like her whatever she looked like," Zabini answered, his voice cold and hard. Evidently Pansy had picked a sore subject to talk about; honestly, the whole blood traitor crap was nonsense.

"Well, I pity Slughorn's taste. Maybe he's going a bit senile. Shame; my father always said he was a good wizard in his day. My father used to be a bit of a favourite of his. Slughorn probably hasn't heard I'm on the train or he..." Draco prattled on.

Harry snorted, that was a lot of rubbish if he'd ever heard it. It was his mum and his dad― Severus, not his birth father... speaking about them all in his own mind was getting confusing― it had been they who'd been Slughorn’s favourites, as well as Regulus Black. He should know; he'd had to talk to the man for nearly an hour. Lucius Malfoy hadn't come up even for a second.

"I wouldn't bank on an invitation," Zabini warned. "He asked me about Nott's father when I first arrived. They used to be old friends, apparently, but when he heard he'd been caught at the Ministry he didn't look happy, and Nott didn't get an invitation, did he? I don't think Slughorn's interested in Death Eaters."

Harry was impressed; he had never heard any Slytherin speaking like that to Malfoy before. Harry winced when Malfoy let out a laugh; it was humourless and dark, and it caused Harry's heart to sink. Oh no, there was only one reason Malfoy would laugh defensively like that. He hadn't, he wouldn't― he would… he was only sixteen! What was he doing throwing his life away? No, he was just being dramatic; Voldemort wouldn't want a kid who couldn't even use magic legally yet… right?

"Who cares what he's interested in? What is he, when you come right down to it? Just some stupid teacher," Malfoy sneered. "I mean, I might not even be at Hogwarts next year; what's it matter to me if some fat old has-been likes me or not?"

Harry closed his eyes and shook his head; he had the confirmation that Draco Malfoy had done something completely stupid.

"What do you mean, you might not be at Hogwarts next year?" Pansy asked, sounding shocked.

"Well, you never know," Malfoy responded. "I might have, err, moved on to bigger and better things."

Harry cocked his head to the side, was it just him… or was there an underlying sense of fear in Malfoy's voice?

"Do you mean― HIM?"

"Mother wants me to complete my education, but personally, I don't see it as that important these days. I mean, think about it, when the Dark Lord takes over, is he going to care how many O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s anyone's got? Of course he isn't; it will be all about the kind of service he received, the level of devotion he was shown," Draco said smugly.

Harry squashed his invisibility cloak into his school cloak, and grabbed the extendable ear and also added them into the pocket. Sliding open the door he stared at the blond without any emotion whatsoever on his face. "Or rather your pain tolerance; I hope you prepare yourself for that. He loves putting the Cruciatus curse on everyone. I saw him doing it to your fathers. Whether you succeed or fail in your impossible-to-accomplish missions."

"What do you know, Potter?" Malfoy spat standing up, his eyes glaring holes in Harry.

"Ironic, really. You hate half-bloods, but are all too willing to bow down to one," Harry said wryly.

"What the hell are you talking about, Potter?" Zabini demanded. An eyebrow rose in what could only be curiosity, despite himself.

Harry laughed out loud, similar to the laugh that Malfoy himself had let out just moments ago. "Ignorance is bliss, isn't it? Voldemort's a half-blood; his father is a fucking Muggle." He ignored the flinches they gave off when he mentioned the name.

"No way! He's Slytherin's heir!" snapped Pansy.

"Yes, he is, through his mother; do you even know his real name? No? Well, I'll let you in on it: TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE. Familiar? No, you probably wouldn't find it even if you tried," Harry said, smirking smugly at their dumbfounded, sick looks. Harry removed his wand, noticing the others all did the same thing. Harry wasn't interested in fighting though; he was here to prove a point.

TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE he wrote in air-borne letters of fire; he swished his wand and it turned into the anagram I AM LORD VOLDEMORT.

"You have the nerve to call the Weasleys blood traitors, when in reality, everyone that follows HIM," Harry said, pointing to the fading flaming words, "are actually the real blood traitors." With that Harry closed the compartment door and walked down the hall to his own compartment, leaving five stunned sixteen-year-olds to lick their wounds. He'd made his point; all they could do now was decide their own paths—although it looked as though Draco Malfoy had already made his bed; he'd have to sleep in it now.

"Where did you go?" Neville asked curiously.

"Just to see Malfoy," Harry shrugged indifferently.

He saw two curious stares but refused to comment further. They finished the ride in silence.

"That's us at Hogwarts, let's go!" Luna suddenly said, staring out the window; they all had their school robes on already.

Before long the students were all once again climbing onto the coaches to get to Hogwarts. It took all of fifteen minutes; it was mostly silent as they entered the Great Hall. Everything was so quiet; the students knew just how bad things were, although nothing stopped them from looking at Harry when he passed. Luna parted ways after kissing Neville, to sit at her own table. Neville and Harry sat at the Gryffindor table, waiting for the feast to start.

"Is it just me… or are there less…" Harry didn't get to finish.

"It's not you; there's fewer new students," Neville said, staring at them all lined up to get sorted, a sea of nervous and terrified faces. Harry felt his heart lurch for them; this wasn't what people's first years should be like. They shouldn't be terrified for their families, for themselves. It made him feel guilty, but he stopped that immediately. It wasn't his fault; the Dark Lord would have found another way to come back. All he could do was continue training, train until he couldn't train anymore, then destroy the Dark Lord.

"Students are being pulled from Hogwarts; their parents are too worried," Hermione said, speaking to them from across the table. "It's a stupid thing to do; with Dumbledore here, it's the safest place in the world."

Harry laughed bitterly, "Yes, it sure is; tell that to the Troll, Quirrell, Voldemort, the Basilisk, House-elves, Pettigrew, Dementors… tell that to Cedric Diggory, when he was Portkeyed out from the so-called safest place in the world," Harry finished with a sneer at her.

Hermione was gaping at him; he had said Cedric Diggory's name; he'd been unable to say it previously without feeling guilty. She looked around, glaring at everyone for listening in on their conversation. "Harry, I'm truly sorry. Can't we start over?" she begged, beseeching Harry with doleful brown eyes.

"No, Hermione, we can't. Not even when you finally realize Headmasters and teachers don't come before your supposed best friend," Harry snapped. Even after a whole year, Harry hadn't calmed down the slightest when it came to Hermione's and Ron's betrayal. They had known how much Harry had hated Snape. They had known how lonely he would be. They weren't to know that Harry and Severus would form an attachment, to realize their perceptions of one another were wrong. Harry wouldn't have survived the summer if Severus had remained the same way. He had been terrified, worrying about the new rules, the fact that Severus had hated him, and that he had magic. He shook off those depressing thoughts; they didn't matter anymore. Professor Snape and Severus (his dad) were two completely different people.

"Harry, aren't you going to eat?" Neville asked, bringing Harry out of his thoughts. He'd made Hermione almost cry, and now he was sitting there staring blankly at his plate.

"Hmm?" Harry stared at Neville, coming back to the here and now.

"The feast has started, Harry," Neville pointed out, staring at Harry in concern.

"Oh, thanks, Nev," Harry said, piling food onto his plate. Truth be told, he was actually really hungry. He hadn't been eating much the past few days, just light summer foods, soups and such. Even his dad had commented on it, but Harry had been fine; in fact, better than fine. His snake didn't have to go down to the chamber, he had made his dad proud, and he'd passed his O.W.L.s. "Hey, how did you do on your exams?" he asked Neville; they hadn't discussed it in their letters.

"I passed them all, apart from Potions; I got an O in Herbology," Neville proudly said.

"You failed Potions? Even with Se…Snape not being in the room?" Harry asked in surprise. Potions weren't Neville's long suit, which was odd, since Herbology was a big part of it.

Neville flushed red. "Well, at least I won't have to attend his class this year," Neville said, sounding relieved.

Harry bit his lip, deciding not to say anything― let Neville live in bliss for a while longer. Severus wasn't teaching Potions this year; no, he had the Defence position. Poor Neville was going to have to attend his classes. He would need to go down to his dad's quarters tonight; he had to let Zar off him for a while. He grinned just remembering the night before leaving for Hogwarts.

-0 FLASHBACK 0-

Harry flipped halfheartedly through the book, not really taking anything in. He had all but given up on finding something to shrink Zar, or some way to keep him out of the chamber. He didn't want to let his familiar go; he was as attached to Zar now as he was to Hedwig. Animals, unlike people, didn't betray you unless they were treated badly. Harry would never do that, so he knew he'd always have their loyalty. Then he saw it, the solution to his problems, and he couldn't believe it. He'd read this book before; how was it that he hadn't read that chapter? He groaned in realisation― of course, that had been when he’d started thinking about the Horcruxes.

He immediately picked up the book and rushed off to find Severus. He went to the living room, the kitchen, and then the potions lab, but he wasn't there. Harry frowned in concern, had he been called? He hoped not. He almost hit himself on the head; there was someone that would know. "Dobby?" Harry called, waiting impatiently for him to come. He was so excited, anxious and worried, all in one go.

"Yes, Harry Potter sir?" Dobby asked appearing before Harry, staring at him in adoration still.

"Where's Severus?" Harry asked, almost hopping up and down.

"He's in the garden, Harry, sir, picking potion ingredients," Dobby told him. "Does Harry Potter want me to go and get him?"

"No, thank you, Dobby; I can go!" Harry said eagerly, running away from the house-elf already. He was unaware of Dobby’s watching him go and smiling, it was nice to see his Harry Potter happy. It wasn't often he'd seen his Harry Potter happy.

"Sir!" Harry called as he finally caught sight of the man he loved as a father, skidding to a halt.

"Where's the fire?" Severus wryly asked, as he continued pulling the ingredients he obviously needed for something.

"I've found it," Harry said grinning widely; he'd done it.

Severus merely arched an eyebrow; contrary to popular belief he didn't go around reading people's minds. He could just tell when they were lying, as any Occlumens and Legilimens could. Of course it worked best if they were staring him in the eye. He might seem like a cold, hard man, and truth be told, he was, to most people. Yet he'd never violate someone's privacy. Not without permission. It was a good thing he and Harry had been getting on much better before Dumbledore had given him that permission. Otherwise he knew he would have been immature, brutal, and nasty. He'd always been that way with Harry, just because he'd thought him spoiled. How very wrong he had been, and Petunia was paying for her crimes now.

"Zar. I can keep him with me," Harry said, calming down; he opened his book and showed Severus what he meant.

"Are you sure?" Severus asked, quickly reading the page, getting the gist of what it meant. People would think Harry had gotten a tattoo if they saw it. He would need to be the one that cast the spell, he realized.

"Yes," Harry immediately said; he wanted to keep Zar with him.

"Then you’d better go and get your snake," Severus curtly recommended. "I'll meet you back at the house, in ten minutes." He just had to get these to the potions lab. He could ask a house-elf to do it for him, but Severus was used to doing everything on his own. He rarely thought to ask the house-elves to do it for him.

"All right," Harry agreed, already hissing for his snake, who was, as always, wandering around the manor. He knew where to go; Harry had told him, so he never left the wards. If he did, he wouldn't be able to get back in; the last thing they needed was for people to spot a basilisk wandering loose. Thankfully there hadn't been any accidents; Harry had kept full control over Zar. If he hadn't, well, the snake would have been killed and used in potion ingredients. It would have hurt Harry a great deal, but you couldn't have a familiar that was wandering around killing people. Otherwise it would have been only a matter of time before Zar turned on Harry.

\---------0

Severus had come into the room while Harry was in the process of explaining everything to the basilisk. Zar could understand English, but Harry always automatically began talking Parseltongue whenever he was near a snake. He had brewed the parseltongue language potion, just in case Harry wouldn't understand him when they took the Horcrux out. When, not if; Severus would not let himself fail, not in this task. He'd promised to keep Harry safe... no, vowed to do so, and he would succeed. After he'd perfected the potion to remove the Horcrux, he'd start tweaking the language potion; he really wanted to be able to speak Parseltongue. He knew his son would be devastated if he lost the ability, so that was an extra reason to try to create it. Only time would tell if he could.

"Are you ready?" Severus asked, removing his wand. The spell had to hit the basilisk, and they only had one vulnerable spot: their eyes. It would hurt, no doubt, but it would be worth it. "Where do you want to put him?" Severus asked. The first part of the spell had to be chanted onto Harry's skin... the exact spot where he wanted Zar to be.

"Here," said Harry, rolling his sleeve all the way up. He pointed to the area he wanted the spell to be placed. His lower arm; it was risky to place it there, but if he didn't he'd need to get undressed every time he wanted to let Zar off him.

Zar, of course, was grumbling― or rather… hissing― in complaint at what he had to do.

"Transfero," Severus chanted, touching Harry's arm then saying the rest, "pingo anguis." He aimed his wand straight at Zar's eye. Zar hissed threateningly as the spell hit him, and with a great puff of smoke he turned into mist and floated towards Harry.

Harry winced, biting his tongue as the mist settled onto his arm, causing a great deal of pain. Harry could only hope that it didn't happen every time. Otherwise he didn't plan on letting Zar off a lot. Then the pain disappeared as quickly as it had come. Now Harry had a tattoo on his arm; it looked exactly like Zar.

"To let him off, just wish it," Severus instructed, watching as the snake once again made an appearance. Harry grinned; he'd always have his familiar with him now. Severus smirked in turn before putting the book down.

-0 End Flashback 0-

Harry stared at the Slytherin table; five students in particular were looking rather subdued. Even the other Slytherins had noticed it, and were giving them all curious looks. Harry wondered if they knew Draco had taken the mark, his eyes trailed up to the Head table. He met Severus' gaze for a few seconds, before subtly trailing back to Draco, then placed his hand over his arm, in the exact spot where Death Eaters had their Dark Marks. He didn't stare back to see if he'd gotten his point across, it was just too risky... especially if Dumbledore was watching him.

Severus had indeed gotten Harry's message, and wanted to close his eyes, curse, or shake his stupid godson. What the hell was he thinking? What had Narcissa been thinking? His godson was doomed to repeat his mistake. He knew his godson didn't have what it took to be a Death Eater. He'd been pale, shaken, and sick when he'd used that spell on Harry last year. That wasn't Death Eater material; his godson's father had been cold, hard, and unfeeling by the time he was seventeen. He'd only known him a year, of course; Lucius had been a Head boy when Severus had started at Hogwarts. Abraxas had been a very loyal follower of Voldemort's, and he'd basically weaned his son on it from birth. Lucius had his chance to get away when Abraxas had died of Dragon Pox, but he didn't seem to want to. He had just brought his son up to support his own ideology. 

Just then everyone went silent, as Albus Dumbledore stood up. "The very best of evenings to you!" Dumbledore greeted joyfully, as always, beaming at them as if he wanted to scoop them into hugs and embrace the entire room. "To our new students, welcome; to our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you… Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to say that there is a blanket ban on any joke items bought at the shop called Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes." He stared at them in obvious amusement.

"Those wishing to play for their house Quidditch teams should give their names to their Heads of House as usual. We are also looking for new Quidditch commentators, who should do likewise."

"Oh yeah, he's gone now, isn't he?" Harry asked, referring to Lee Jordan, Fred and George's best friend. Ron had hated him, only because he had a pet Tarantula he'd brought to Hogwarts.

"Yeah," Neville nodded in agreement.

"We are pleased to welcome a new member of staff this year, Professor Slughorn," Dumbledore continued brightly. The man in question stood up; his bald head was gleaming in the candlelight. "He is a former colleague of mine who has agreed to resume his old post of Potions Master."

Harry looked at Neville out of the corner of his eye; he bit his lip to stop from laughing at the horror on his face.

In unison many students called out "Potions?!" in confusion.

"Yes!" Ron chortled, his entire face lit up in glee. "No Snape this year!"

Neville was just beginning to relax when Dumbledore began speaking again.

"Professor Snape, meanwhile," Dumbledore went on, raising his voice so he was heard above the talking. "Will be taking over the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts Teacher."

"No!" Ron gaped, horrified.

Neville just squeaked in renewed terror. Just when he thought he'd be away from Snape this year, the rug was pulled from under him. Severus just raised his hand in acknowledgement to his Slytherins, not bothering to stand up. There was little doubt Severus had always wanted that job. He couldn't hide the triumph on his face; Harry had to stop himself from smirking.

"Now, as everybody in this Hall knows, Lord Voldemort and his followers are once more at large and gaining in strength." Everyone quieted down immediately upon hearing THAT name.

Harry stared back over at the Slytherin table, finding Malfoy; he was staring at him. He arched an eyebrow and shook his head, looking disappointed. Malfoy glared fiercely before looking away.

"I cannot emphasise strongly enough how dangerous the present situation is, and how much care each of us at Hogwarts must take to ensure that we remain safe. The castle's magical fortifications have been strengthened over the summer; we are protected in new and more powerful ways, but we must still guard scrupulously against carelessness on the part of any student or member of staff. I urge you, therefore, to abide by any security restrictions that your teachers may impose upon you, however irksome you may find them― in particular, the rule that you are not to be out of bed after hours. I implore you, should you notice anything strange or suspicious within or outside the castle, to report it to a member of staff immediately. I trust you to conduct yourselves, always, with the utmost regard for your own and each other's safety." Dumbledore's eyes were sweeping the hall, filled with the gravity of the situation. Once he was satisfied he had gotten through to his students, he spoke once again.

"But now, your beds await, as warm and comfortable as you could possibly wish, and I know that your top priority is to be well-rested for your lessons tomorrow. Let us therefore say goodnight. Pip pip!"

"Come on, Nev," Harry said, getting his friend's attention. Neville was still horrified at the thought of having Severus Snape for another two years at Hogwarts. He stifled his amusement once again; he shouldn't be laughing at Neville, but it WAS funny. Well, now it was; he knew he'd have been absolutely furious if he hadn't known Severus better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited by Jake and Jordre thanks guys!


	48. Chapter 48

A New Place To Stay 

Chapter 48 

Zar, And the First Day of Classes 

When the first-year Gryffindors were led up the stairs to their common room by the prefects and Gryffindor Head boy, Harry slipped away. He'd come to know the dungeons very well in the past year or so. In fact, he knew secret locations his father hadn't found. He didn't know how to alter the map to show them, so he didn't try. He thought about asking Sirius, but he wasn't sure he wanted to. It might make Sirius see him more as James than Harry. Was it so bad that he wanted his godfather to see him as his own man? His dad had, eventually, although he probably had Malfoy to thank for that. If he hadn't cast that spell on him, he wouldn't have inevitably passed out two times and been found out. Slipping into his dad's quarters, he smiled his first genuine smile since leaving Prince Manor.

The difference was astounding. Harry had relaxed completely, and his masks slid away. It was like an actor’s becoming himself as soon as the camera was turned off. "Dobby?" Harry called, as he rummaged around the small kitchen.

"Yes, sir?" Dobby had come back to Hogwarts with them. Since there were so many house-elves, the teachers wouldn't notice one in particular leaving unless they called for Dobby specifically themselves. Even if that had occurred, Dobby would have heard and returned.

"Is there coffee in the kitchens, Dobby? I can't find any here," Harry said. He still wasn't sure if his dad bought the stuff himself or if the Hogwarts house-elves filled the canister for them, and he'd never thought to ask.

"Dobby will get some, Harry, sir," Dobby answered excitedly, always happy to help his Harry Potter or Master Severus.

Harry shook his head in amusement as he put the kettle on―the Aguamenti spell only slipped water out cold. He hadn't heard of a spell to make the water hot yet, and didn't think it was possible. Otherwise they wouldn't have to wait for the kettle to boil. There might be one though, and it might not be as nice as actual normal boiled water. He shook off his thoughts. Neville had gone to the Gryffindor common room to finish his homework. Normally he would have been doing the same, or trying to, only to end up distracted by everyone's holidays and catching up. Things were different now; that happened when you had a meticulous, demanding teacher for a dad. It was one of the first things he did when he went home. His homework had been done within the first week, and it was more than the teachers had asked for. He was truly putting Hermione Granger to shame.

When Dobby returned, he had an entire box filled with stuff. Then he magically began putting things away, opening cupboards and placing them where they usually went. Harry watched, amazed; why house-elves weren't used for better things, he didn't know. They could do Wandless magic― they were able to control their magic without the aid of a wand, and to Harry, that was awesome.

"Dobby, could you go and get some treats for Zar?" Harry asked, digging into his bag and withdrawing money. Once again Severus had paid for his books and everything he needed for Hogwarts. It was odd; he'd paid for everything he needed for years, apart from last year. He had kept his key safe since being reprimanded by his dad. Apparently you weren't supposed to let anyone else handle it; Severus was probably right, but he had trusted Molly completely. The rat population was probably way down, especially around Hogwarts. It took a lot of food to satisfy Zar, he was so big; so it was no surprise, really.

"Yes, sir!" Dobby said, accepting the money before disappearing. Harry wasn't sure if Dobby could get anything in Diagon Alley; it was all boarded up, and hopefully he'd be safe. The Death Eaters had demolished the once-beautiful place; well, it was beautiful to him. When he'd first seen it, he'd wished he had eight eyes just to see absolutely everything to offer in the beautiful little cobblestoned Alley.

Harry removed his cloak, displaying Zar on his arm; it wasn't small… like Zar, the tattoo was huge, taking up the majority of the room on his arm; the tail was wrapped around his wrist. The body slithered up his forearm, and the face was partially on his upper arm. Zar’s amber eyes were on full display, along with a vicious set of teeth. The scales were exactly like Zar's, multicoloured― he actually really liked it. He almost wanted to go out and get a tattoo. It would be another way of being who he wanted to be, not what the world wanted to see. Although he hadn't seen tattoo parlors anywhere in the magical world. Maybe it was simply a matter of using a spell to have a tattoo permanently inked. Zar always stayed in the lowest levels of Hogwarts, or outside until the dead of night before coming back. The snake had been told people would be afraid of him, would try to hurt him if they saw him. Harry didn't want that, and so he'd made sure Zar understood.

"Zar, come off now," Harry ordered, hissing in Parseltongue. A small hissing was heard before the tattoo disappeared, and Zar was once again a normal basilisk. He was huge, taking up the entire living area. How Harry wished he could make him smaller and be able to carry him around like he used to. "Go on then, have fun."

Zar let out a long hiss as if in agreement or amusement. He slithered off through the secret tunnels Hogwarts had created for Zar a year ago. There were two different ways he could go: either deeper into Hogwarts, or outside Hogwarts completely. It was actually somewhere the students didn't go often. They either went to the lake, to the pitch, or near the forest; Harry couldn't remember actually ever going around to that side of the castle in all his years as a student.

Once the room went quiet and he couldn't hear Zar at all, he went back to the kitchen and made himself and his dad some coffee. He'd never bothered about the stuff before, but lately, he'd been drinking it a lot, especially with their early morning starts and long evenings. They were at a stand-still when it came to the Horcruxes; they just didn't know where the others could be. They had a rough idea who might have them, but not where the Death Eaters could have put them. His dad seemed distracted with perfecting the potion for him anyway. Nobody had ever wanted to help him so much, at least not without a hidden agenda.

Harry had just poured the coffee into the cups and sat down when Severus joined him. He gratefully took his own cup and sat down, a sigh leaving his lips. He seemed lost in his thoughts, no doubt about his godson, Draco Malfoy. Harry was surprised to feel jealousy slither up his spine at the thought. Harry was very familiar with jealousy. Growing up with Dudley Dursley, who got everything he wanted on a silver platter, much like Draco, would make anyone jealous. He'd been jealous of Ron’s having such a wonderful family, but never in all his years had he been jealous of Draco Malfoy, or experienced it with such profoundness before.

"Here, this used to belong to my mother before I, too, started using it during my sixth year at Hogwarts," Severus told him, handing over a book.

Harry took it curiously, and began flipping through it, and found every page had markings in the margins. Cocking his head to the side, he read it and realized that this was making the potions more effective than they would be with the original recipes. More curiously, he found other Latin words in the margins that discussed potions, but not the actual ingredients. He knew his Latin well enough now to realise one spell in particular should not be used.

"The spells are not to be used; if you try, Harry, you will find the consequences severe," Severus warned, his voice brooking no arguments. Sixteen or not, he'd take the boy over his knee and give him a spanking he'd never forget. He'd never raised a hand to a child, but spanking was different.

"I understand," Harry acknowledged seriously. He knew Severus would live up to his word if he even thought about trying the spells, never mind if he used them.

"Good," Severus said. "You best get up to your dorm; it's nearly curfew. Remember to meditate before bed."

"I will," Harry said, standing up. "Night, Severus," he said before donning his invisibility cloak and leaving.

\---------0

 

Harry was immediately cleared to continue all his classes: Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, History of Magic, Potions, Transfiguration, and the Healing course, and Harry had even taken Ancient Runes as well. Harry didn't want to take Divination anymore; he'd had two prophecies about him from the woman, and he didn't want any more. He waited for Neville, despite the fact that most of them usually just left straight after getting their timetables.

"Herbology, fine," Professor McGonagall said. "Professor Spout will be delighted to see you back with an outstanding O.W.L., and you qualify for Defence Against the Dark Arts with Outstanding. Transfiguration... I am sorry, Longbottom, but an Acceptable isn't enough for you to continue to N.E.W.T. level. You will not be able to cope with the work load. Why do you want to continue with Transfiguration, anyway? I was under the impression you didn't like it."

"My grandmother wants me to," Neville said, going red in the face.

"It's fine, Neville; I'll help you," Harry said, glaring at his teacher's back; Head of House or not, they were supposed to encourage their students, not bring them down.

"Why don't you try Charms? You received an Exceeded Expectations in that," Minerva remarked.

Harry bit his lip, refraining from commenting; Neville had gotten that because he'd made sure Neville could do the Patronus Charm.

"My grandmother thinks it's a soft option," Neville replied.

"Take Charms," Minerva said, "And I shall drop Augusta a line reminding her that just because she failed her charms O.W.L., the subject is not necessarily worthless." With that she gave him his timetable and moved on to the next student. Neville was just gaping at her in apparent shock.

"She's right you know, Nev; it's you that's going to have to live with your career choice, not your Gran… before it's too late, choose what you want to do. I'd like to think that our parents would be proud of whatever we chose to do, don't you?" Harry said seriously. Severus had told him the same thing; it was why he was no longer desperate to be an Auror, thinking he needed everyone's approval.

"True," Neville answered thoughtfully.

"I have Ancient Runes, Nev; I'll see you next lesson― Defence," Harry said, smothering his amusement at the look of dread crossing Neville's face. Poor Neville, he really looked as though he was about to have a nervous breakdown. Maybe now, without potions, Severus wouldn't have to be so nasty to him. Neville truly was a nightmare at Potions, he just got so nervous.

\-----------0

Two hours later found Neville and Harry leaning against the wall waiting for Snape. Everyone else was gossiping around them; Hermione was moaning to Ron about the huge amount of homework they'd just got for Runes. Instead of putting her books in her bag, she was carrying them around, something Harry really didn't understand.

"What do you think it's going to be like?" Neville asked, looking as though he was going to be sick.

Harry's first thought was, “Hell,” but he didn't want to scare Neville even more than he already was. He was finding it hard to stop himself from laughing; he knew his dad was all bark and no bite… unless someone pissed him off, anyway. He'd invented spells when he was sixteen― Harry couldn't imagine doing that. He was so smart, he could have done anything, yet here he was teaching students. He'd been definitely excited about teaching Defence though. He'd been so smug when he'd told him, and Harry was curious about what he'd teach.

"Inside!" Severus barked, magically opening the door and watching the students trudge in. They put their books on the tables, as they did so looking around the room, wide-eyed.

Harry could see Severus had already made it similar to his office. If they'd known him, they would realize this was all a front. His manor and rooms at Hogwarts were nothing like this, he was doing it to scare the hell out of them. Even Harry could barely bring himself to look at the gruesome pictures.

"I have not asked you to take out your books," Snape said, closing the door as he eyed each and every single student, lingering on Harry longer than the rest. "You have had five teachers on this subject so far, I believe."

Harry had to bite his tongue; the pain helped him focus and stop him from grinning like a loon. Honestly, as if his dad didn't know exactly how many teachers they'd had. All of them had irritated Severus beyond belief.

"Naturally, these teachers will all have had their own methods and priorities. Given this confusion, I am surprised so many of you scraped an O.W.L in this subject. I shall be even more surprised if all of you manage to keep up with the N.E.W.T. work, which will be much more advanced.

"The Dark Arts," Snape lectured, "are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, and indestructible."

Harry was flashing back to his first potions lesson. Snape loved both subjects equally; it was there in his voice. He had a way of speaking that could send shivers down your spine. That of a poet, his grandmother had written in the book she’d given Severus, which he’d then passed to Harry, who cherished it.

"Your defences," Snape continued, "must therefore be as flexible and inventive as the Arts you seek to undo. These pictures give a fair representation of what happens to those who suffer the Cruciatus curse, feel the Dementor's Kiss, or provoke the aggression of the Inferius."

"Has an Inferius been seen, then?" Patil asked, her voice filled with terror, "IS it definite, is he using them?"

"The Dark Lord has used Inferi in the past," Snape said, "which means you would be well-advised to assume he might use them again. Now… I believe you are novices in the use of non- verbal spells. What is the advantage of a non-verbal spell?"

Harry blinked and looked around. He'd just used the term “Dark Lord,” yet nobody seemed to understand the significance of that. Only those he had on his side used that name; everyone else used “You-Know-Who.”

Hermione's hand was in the air, and Severus looked around the room, irritated as he always was when she was the only one to raise her hand. In the end Harry decided to raise his hand as well. He wondered whom he'd pick, Hermione or him; he knew it might not be him― they both had parts to play.

"Mr. Potter," Severus acknowledged, his voice filled with disgust as it always was when his name was mentioned in public.

"Your opponent has no idea what spell you're flinging at them; they need to work it out before they can defend against it. That gives you the upper hand," Harry responded.

"Indeed," intoned Severus dryly. "Not all wizards can do this, of course; it's a question of concentration and mind power, which some lack."

Harry glared at Severus, aware that this was supposed to be aimed at him. As it stood he was actually really good at non-verbal spells. "Divide into pairs and try it for yourselves. I want complete silence, is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," everyone muttered. Harry paired himself with Neville, who was practically shaking, because Severus had remained beside them, watching the proceedings.

"Pathetic, Longbottom," Snape said, "Here― let me show you ―" he turned his wand on Harry quickly and Harry raised a shield non-verbally, quicker than any student should in a “novice” class.

"Do you remember me telling you we were practicing non-verbal spells, Potter?" Professor Snape sneered, as if Harry had cheated and actually said the words, which both were very aware he hadn't. The students however, began to wonder if he had or not. It was so easy to hoodwink people into believing whatever you wanted them to.

"Yes," Harry replied, glaring back.

"Yes, sir," Severus snapped, not liking the disrespect Harry was showing.

"There's no need to call me 'sir,' professor," Harry said, deliberately goading his dad. It would be weird if he didn't receive detention on his first class, after all. It was a tradition; he was always given detention.

"Detention, Potter, Saturday night, my office." The glare would have caused a fire if it were possible.

"Harry, what were you thinking, goading him like that?" Neville asked as they walked towards the dungeons. Harry had guts in spades; he wished he was more like his friend. Yet he just got so terrified every time he saw Professor Snape.

"Harry! Hey, Harry!" yelled Jack Sloper. Harry recognized him; he had been on the Quidditch team last year. If Weasley had any sense, he wouldn't let the guy back on the team.

"What?" Harry asked sharply.

"Here," said the student who passed him a note before bounding away towards Ronald Weasley, who was going on about the trials for the Quidditch team.

"That should have been you," Neville said; Harry had always been the best and most daring player on the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

"I've got too much to do without being hounded about Quidditch," Harry said, shaking his head and opening the letter. He shook his head when he saw the contents. Saturday; well, at least he didn't have to worry about getting double detention for not being able to attend.

Dear Harry, 

I should like to start our private lessons this Saturday. Kindly come along to my office at eight p.m. I hope you are enjoying your first day back at school.

Yours sincerely, 

Albus Dumbledore

P.S. I enjoy Acid Pops. 

Harry would never understand why he phrased his P.S. that way; it was obvious to everyone in the school what it would be. "What do you have, Nev?" Harry said.

"Another free class, but Luna has one too, so we’re going to meet up. Want to come?" Neville asked.

"I have Potions next," Harry said with regret. "I'll meet up with you in the Great Hall at lunchtime?" he suggested.

"All right: see you then!" Neville said as they parted ways, Harry to the Dungeons, Neville to see Luna.

Before long, Harry was waiting outside the Potions classroom. It was different; everyone wasn't as tense, and the Slytherins weren't as smug—although that might have something to do with what Harry had told them. The only one seemingly unchanged was Blaise Zabini, but Harry didn't think he had parents who were Death Eaters. He'd never heard the name Zabini come up, anyway. They were all let in, Slughorn paying a lot of attention to him and Zabini in particular.

The four Slytherins all sat down together, four Ravenclaws and one Hufflepuff, Ernie; he and Hermione were the only Gryffindors. She sat next to him quietly and hesitantly, along with Ernie, who picked them as the safest. "Now, I have picked a few potions for you all to look at! You should already know them now; anyone tell me what this one is?" Slughorn asked the assembled class.

Harry and Hermione's hands once again shot into the air.

"Yes, Harry!" Slughorn said, beaming at the sixth-year.

"It's Veritaserum, truth potion," Harry simply said.

"Excellent! Five points to Gryffindor; now this one?" Slughorn said, standing in front of yet another one.

"Yes, Harry?" Slughorn asked, over the moon that Harry was so good at Potions, completely ignoring the frantic hand waving next to the famous wizard.

"Polyjuice Potion." Harry replied.

"Excellent; do you know the next one?" Slughorn enquired, bemused by the hand Hermione had yet to lower before gazing back at Harry.

"Amortentia," Harry said wryly, finding the situation amusing. He didn't think Hermione had ever been ignored this way before. "It's the most powerful love potion in our world."

Harry ignored Slughorn while he prattled on about the potion, instead bringing out his Potions book, the one Severus had given him; the other had been put in the bottom of his trunk, so they didn't get mixed up. Harry perked up when he realized Slughorn was giving the students a chance to win Felix Felicis. He doubted Severus would be happy to hear of that; it was extremely toxic in large quantities.

Draught of Living Death—well, that was a challenge; he hadn't brewed that particular potion yet. It had fascinated him, how someone could pretend to be dead. He had wondered if the potion wore off, or if an antidote had to be given. Harry followed Severus' instructions instead of the ones on the paper. He wasn't stupid enough not to follow Severus' instructions; he was the Potions Master, after all. He didn't look at the others once while brewing, keeping his concentration on his own bubbling potion. Even when Malfoy spoke up about his grandfather, someone called Abraxas. Dragon pox... he wondered if it was similar to chicken pox.

"Time's up!" Slughorn called, "Stop stirring and stand away from your cauldrons."

Harry finally looked at the other potions; next to him, Hermione's potion had gone the right colour. Yet his had gone even paler, indicating that it was more potent than Hermione's. Harry was yet again amazed; his dad really was brilliant. He'd always known it, but this proved it. He could have been a brilliant Potions teacher if he'd done this throughout the years instead of yelling.

"The clear winner!" Slughorn cried once he'd finished inspecting everyone's cauldron. That didn't take long, since there were only eleven people in the class. "Excellent, Harry! Good Lord, it's clear you've inherited your mother's talent; she was a dab hand at Potions, Lily was! Here you are, then, here you are ― one bottle of Felix Felicis, as promised, and use it well!"

"Thank you, sir," Harry said. It was funny; for five years he'd been compared to his father in this very classroom. Now in a flip turn, he was being compared to his mother now.

"How did you do that?" Hermione demanded as Harry left the Dungeons. She couldn't believe Harry had made a potion better than she; it had always been the class she'd been best in. Her potions had always been perfect, even during last year when Harry did better in all his other classes. She couldn't believe he'd gotten an Outstanding; he'd never shown promise in Potions before. She felt as though she were going insane; Professor Slughorn hadn't even said anything about her potion.

"Same way you did: I followed the instructions," Harry said, sighing as he walked faster, hoping to get away from her.

"Not the same way, otherwise our potions would have been the same!" Hermione insisted.

"That's what it comes down to, right? The fact that I managed to brew a Potion better than you?" Harry snapped. Was this how she would have reacted if they had still been friends? No; she would have badgered him for answers, then disapproved of his methods. He was glad when the golden doors of the Great Hall came into view. He slid in and went towards Neville; thankfully Hermione had gotten the picture and slunk off to her own seat beside Ron, feeling depressed.

"Hey, Harry, how was your class?" Neville asked, filling his plate as Harry joined him.

"Slughorn's good; I think you would have liked him," Harry said; he was the sort of teacher Neville needed. He encouraged, soothed, and made a big deal of successes. He hadn't said anything about the others’ failed potions; he’d just smiled in sympathy.

"No; I'd rather avoid it," Neville said, shaking his head― not just Potions, but Slughorn too.

Harry sniggered as he filled his plate.

"What's wrong with Hermione?" Neville whispered; she looked as though she'd put her finger in a socket. Her hair was bushier than Neville had ever seen it; her eyes were wide and desperate-looking. She promptly sank behind a potions book, frantically searching it for something.

"Oh, that; I brewed a potion better than her," Harry said; he wasn't gloating per se.

"You're joking!" Neville choked out, looking as if he were going to burst out laughing. He couldn't believe it; nobody had ever beaten Hermione for the best grade in Potions, other than Draco Malfoy. Both of them had competed for the top spot for years.

"No," said Harry. With those directions, he could bet even Neville could brew a potion successfully. He thought about trying; there wasn't much more he could teach Neville in Defence without giving away his true power. If he was going to, he'd need to be really sneaky about it. He trusted Neville a lot, but he didn't have any mind shields, making him vulnerable to Dumbledore's probing.

"Well done, mate," Neville said, impressed.

"Thanks," Harry replied, but he knew that, if it hadn’t been for his dad's instructions, he wouldn't have brewed the potion better than Hermione. At least he didn't think so; at the very least they'd have been the same. Speaking of Severus, he wondered what he'd think of the letter he'd received from Dumbledore. He wasn't happy about the private lessons; Harry could tell, even if he didn't say anything. Even he was apprehensive about the up-coming lessons, whatever they might be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the time you've put into editing this story Jake and Jordre :) you guys are amazing


	49. Chapter 49

A New Place To Stay  
Chapter 49  
The Horcruxes 

Severus stood brewing in his private Potions lab, which was inside his quarters. Of course it had to be, since Slughorn was now the Potions teacher. He had the labs in the Potions class, and the ones the seventh-years used for independent study and brewing. No one came down here, other than Harry; it had always been his refuge of solitude, his safe place from the outside world. Not even Dumbledore came here, thankfully; no, the Headmaster used Patronus messages or spoke during mealtimes. 

Severus' mind was solely focused on the potion in front of him. He was attempting something very risky; he was going to put Basilisk venom into the potion. He had only five seconds to add it, after stirring ten times clockwise, otherwise it would explode violently. Zar had gladly parted with his venom; he adored Harry for some reason. Then again, if any animal was treated right, it would do anything for you. Zar could smell Harry a mile away, and always came back to see him. Zar was thirty feet long, now; he was still growing. From what he could recall, the basilisk Harry had faced had been sixty, perhaps seventy feet. It might be what they were fully grown, but Severus had no idea how long that was. It wasn’t as if anyone could get close to a basilisk, never mind record their growth rate.

After stirring, he dropped in the venom, which was in a dropper ready to be put in. The last splodge plopped into the potion and Severus held his breath, his heart beating like a drum, adrenaline flowing through him. There was nothing like inventing a new potion or brewing a potion he hadn't had the pleasure of making before. The last time he'd felt this rush so strongly had to be when he’d created the Wolfsbane potion. He closed in his eyes in relief; it had worked, and the venom had merged with the potion, just as it should have. It was the only thing he could think of that would get rid of the Horcrux. The others had been destroyed with the basilisk venom: the diary, the locket, and, of course, the ring. The remains of those were stashed away in a chest he'd locked with all available spells to keep it secure. He wasn't sure if they would come in handy, and if they might, then they were worth keeping.

Severus began tidying the mess away; casting cleansing spells, and making sure no residue was left behind. The entire table had to be sterilised after each potion, otherwise the juices would interfere with whatever potion ingredient he cut up next. Once that was done, he placed protection spells on the potion to stop it from tipping over, and to prevent anything’s being added to it. It had to simmer for another three hours. Once it was cooled, it would be fit for consumption. Hopefully this would successfully remove the Horcrux from Harry.

Closing the door, he looked around his living area and shook his head. Harry's stuff was everywhere. Books were strewn all across his table, as well as the journals he took everywhere with him. He must have been here before going straight to Dumbledore's office. There was also a large stack of parchment on his favourite chair. Picking them up, his curiosity got the better of him. His eyebrow rose as he read the front page. Sitting down, he began to read it, quietly impressed by how well Harry's writing had come along, and his words. He had written everything about Zar in here, from before he hatched to now. There had to be seventeen long chapters, one for each parchment. The most amazing thing of all were the pictures; he had not realized Harry could or even liked to draw. He wondered if Harry wanted to publish it. He should; it was very good, and coming from him, that meant something.

"Dobby?" Severus called as he continued to read; this was certainly something he'd buy. It wasn't just about basilisks, and what they liked and did, and how they reacted, but also the usefulness of their ingredients, an addition that would make sure it sold well to different audiences.

"Yes, sir?" Dobby asked, appearing covered from head to foot in flour. Considering he wasn't that big, it wasn't all that much, in reality. Regardless, he was very happy to see Master Severus as always, even more so to see Harry... but not today, since Harry wasn't here.

"Having fun?" Severus wryly asked, staring at the state of the elf.

"Can Dobby help Master Severus?" Dobby asked, his wide green eyes filled with gratitude, for what, Severus didn't know. Nobody usually asked Dobby questions; only the great Harry Potter ever had. He'd even asked Dobby to sit with him; he was such a good wizard. It was little wonder that Dobby liked him so much, having spent his entire life abused and mistreated. All three of them were, in a twisted way, kindred spirits. Abused for the simple fact of who and what they were, and because they had been born.

"Coffee, some sandwiches; anything sweet if it's available as well, please, Dobby," Severus said, giving the elf his undivided attention for a few seconds, before, once more, beginning to read the manuscript in front of him. By then a pop signalled that Dobby had left. He hadn't eaten much today, and he was feeling hungry. It was late, nearly curfew already. Thankfully he wasn't patrolling the school tonight― no, that was up to Filch, the head boy, the prefects, and, of course, Minerva. The teachers divvied it up so they could get some peace and quiet. It was taking some getting used to, not teaching dunderheads to brew potions. He preferred teaching Defence though; it was much simpler, and at least nobody could get killed if he failed to notice mistakes. Slughorn was doing his head in though, no surprise there; he was also exclaiming how brilliant Harry was in potions, much to his satisfaction and pride. He wasn't the only teacher; all of them had been at it since last year. His O.W.L. scores had been very good; he was extremely happy with Harry. It was why he'd rewarded him for his results with a brand-new broom.

Dobby reappeared with a large tray, bigger than himself, filled with a wide assortment of biscuits and cakes, as well as sandwiches and the coffee he'd ordered. "Thank you, Dobby," Severus said.

"Anything else, sir?" Dobby asked.

"No, thank you, Dobby; why don't you get some rest?" Severus suggested, but, unfortunately, rest was a foreign concept to House-elves. They liked to keep themselves busy; they worked nearly all day every day.

"Yes, sir," Dobby said, and once again disappeared.

"Hey, that's mine," Harry exclaimed defensively as he came through the door, seeing Severus reading his book. His invisibility cloak was gathered up into his arms. He couldn't believe he'd read it, not out of anger, but embarrassment. He'd never meant for anyone to see it, least of all his dad.

"Indeed," Severus said, staring at Harry and placing the parchment on his lap. He wondered what was on Harry's mind, the downside to teaching someone Occlumency. You were no longer able to read him, but Severus had known Harry for a long time; Occlumens notwithstanding, he couldn't quite cover up his initial reaction. Thinking back, Harry seemed more put out, defensive and… embarrassed, maybe… rather than angry.

"You shouldn't have read that," Harry protested, still standing like a spare end, unsure of what to do or what else to say.

"You shouldn't be ashamed; it's very good, Harry, most certainly worth publishing. It's a very enlightening piece of work," Severus said honestly. "Not many have the ability to study such animals, never mind the opportunity to do so. It would certainly shed some good light on basilisks, and snakes in general. Your ability is coveted greatly by many people; it's just a shame, I think, that you've only been exposed to those that have come to fear it because it's associated with the Dark Lord. Even at that, the students shouldn't be scared, since they should have been largely unaware of the Dark Lord's ability."

"You were scared as well," Harry remarked, sitting down with a flush of pleasure spreading through him. It was always high praise from Severus; he didn't say something he didn't mean.

"Excuse me?" Severus asked his voice low, feeling rather insulted.

"Alright, maybe it wasn't fear," Harry conceded. "It was something though; you don't normally display emotion… but you did that day. You looked stunned, as if you couldn't believe what you were seeing, and expected to wake up any second."

"I admit, I was momentarily startled, perhaps even a little envious; as you know, it's a talent I admired. One day I would love the ability to converse with one, but I am also grateful for what I have at the moment," Severus said honestly. Being able to understand them was more than he could have hoped for. "Harry, I really think you should see about publishing this."

"Why? They'd just buy it because of who I am." Harry scowled darkly; he hated his fame. It didn't help that he knew that if he managed to destroy Voldemort for good, the fame would be ten times worse.

"They would," Severus said in agreement, "which is why people can choose to write under a pseudonym. That way the people buying it would like the book for itself and judge it impartially."

"I never thought of that," Harry sheepishly admitted, but he had never intended for the book to be read by anyone else. At least not consciously, but now that Severus had suggested it, he felt the need to publish it. If his dad had said it was good, then it really must be good enough to be published.

"The pictures are also very well done; I had no idea you liked drawing," Severus said.

"I do; I always have. In my cupboard I had a picture of Hagrid before I met him here, riding a flying motorcycle, before I realized it wasn't just my imagination. I also drew Hedwig once during the summer… with paper and pens that had been dumped in the room." Harry shrugged his shoulders as he said this.

Severus wanted to curse; it seemed as if all of Harry's talents had been suppressed by both the Muggles and the Wizarding world. The wizarding world wanted him good at defence and perhaps transfiguration (because of James), but didn't care about anything else. Perhaps he should get some art supplies for him, just a starting kit... it might not be something Harry wanted to do long-term. The clock chimed; it was now officially past curfew. Eyeing Harry again, he didn't seem magically drained, perhaps just slightly irritated, now that his mind was wandering, perhaps to what they had been up to. "What happened?" Severus enquired.

An imagine of Marvolo grabbing Merope, almost choking her to show Ogden the stupid locket—which, by the way, was now a wasted chunk of burnt-out metal—flashed though his mind when his dad asked that question. The last of the Gaunt family pride was gone. It was also a strange sensation, hearing those around him speaking Parseltongue in the pensieve, humans actually using it as a secret language. He certainly wasn't looking forward to the other meetings. His dad would like to know more; he was always “know the enemy, and only then can you hope to defeat him.” Not that he was truly learning things he didn't know; he'd learned all this ages ago, while reading the newspapers. He was sick of playing the ignorant Potter card, but he couldn't reveal he knew about the Horcruxes.

"Showed me a memory, from a man called Ogden, Bob Ogden; he used to be the head of the Magical Law Enforcement squad. Dumbledore said he managed to persuade the man to give him the memory of his dealings with the Gaunt family."

"Typical," Severus said, his lip curling in disgust; that was just like Dumbledore: promising something and doing the opposite. Harry already knew all this, at least most of it. So the “lessons” were going to be a waste of time. Didn't Dumbledore want Harry to survive? How could he not train him for what was coming? It still baffled him, despite what he already knew. Did Dumbledore really think Harry was doomed and supposed to die for the greater good? Why hadn't he looked into it for a way to save him, instead of just going about his business like the two-faced… monster he was? There was no insult bad enough to state the depravity of Dumbledore's actions. He was worse than the Dark Lord in some ways; about that, Severus was adamant. Thank Merlin he'd found out when he had; otherwise Harry would still be the idiotic, clueless, stupid… boy he had been for four years, a willing lamb for the slaughter. Lily was probably rolling in her grave at Dumbledore's actions; she'd died to save her son, and this was what Dumbledore was doing? "What was the memory about?"

"The time Morfin cursed Tom Riddle; it was in the paper, remember? Ogden was sent to the Gaunt property, it was just as run down then. They all spoke Parseltongue, you have no idea how weird it was seeing an entire family being able to speak it," Harry said, completely bemused. "He couldn't understand them of course; Marvolo chased Ogden off the property with a knife. From the paper I could deduce what happened next: Marvolo attacked the Ministry workers and was arrested as well. Both were sentenced to Azkaban; Merope drugged Tom Riddle, and they left together. She either forgot to give him the potion or stopped, thinking he'd stay for the sake of the baby."

"That's it? That's all he showed you?" Severus demanded, barely able to keep his anger in check. Perhaps he should put some more poison ivy in the fool's clothes. It would be nothing more than he deserved.

"Yes; Marvolo was insane," Harry said.

"The whole family had a screw loose," Severus said in agreement.

"Growing up with Marvolo, I can’t blame them," scoffed Harry. "It's ironic really, how adding Muggle blood, or mothers with hardly any magic, created such magically powerful offspring."

"Indeed," Severus replied wryly. His own mother's magic had been weak as hell; she couldn't even use a spell properly to defend herself against her husband. The only thing she was good at was Potions and Gobstones, both could have earned her a lot of money. Instead she'd slunk off into the Muggle world, getting herself disowned, marrying the first man to pay any attention to her, and getting pregnant. She'd lived the span of a normal Muggle, no doubt because of her lack of magic. Magic seemed to elongate life, the stronger the longer; just look at Dumbledore or Bathilda Bagshot. Bagshot, though, was as ancient as her History of Magic book, well past its sell-by date.

"Come down tomorrow after lunch; I want to work some more on non-verbal magic," Severus said, changing the subject. He'd begun teaching him just before going back, and he wanted to continue it. Harry was very good at non-verbal magic, and he wanted to push the boat out, to see how far he could push him and what he was capable of.

"Okay," Harry agreed, nodding his head. He really liked non-verbal spells; they came so easily to him, much like everything else in Defence and Charms.

"Good. Your teachers are very impressed with your homework and participation in classes. Well done; I'm proud of you, Harry." Severus knew that a little praise went a long way with Harry. Having gone so long without it, being praised now made him strive for more. "I've also noticed you speaking to Miss Granger; have you worked out your differences?"

"No; she's angry," Harry quietly said. Grabbing a piece of cake and a small fork he dug in, swallowing before continuing. "She hates that I'm doing better than her in Potions. I think she brewed the Draught of the Living Death again after class… but it didn't come out the way I did it. She's practically accusing me of cheating. Maybe you should give her some calming draught; she looks like she could use it." He actually felt slightly sorry for her; she was exhausting herself. She was coming down to breakfast looking as if she hadn't slept, then proceeding to use every spare minute she wasn't in class or doing homework, reading every book she could. Mostly on Potions lately, trying to figure out how Harry was doing it. Even Ron had taken to spending his time with Finnegan and Thomas. Obviously the redhead didn't realize that Thomas was currently dating his sister. Ginny had flushed red in embarrassment, and her eyes had held shame and disappointment for whatever reason when he'd caught them together. He couldn't help but wonder how Hermione would feel about his succeeding if they were still friends. Would she still have been jealous? If he had done this since first year, would she have remained his friend? Was it so wrong to want good grades to impress someone who cared and he loved? His dad expected good grades, especially when he'd learned what he was capable of. For those good grades he'd actually gotten a broomstick. Man, it had been great to fly again. He'd missed it more than he'd realized, the freedom it brought was exhilarating.

"She's jealous of the Half-Blood Prince," Harry grinned cheekily.

Severus' lip quivered in amusement. It was odd, seeing Granger so unhinged, admittedly. She was usually very composed and calm, except when she was waving her bloody hand in the air, standing on the tips of her toes. It was infuriating; she was annoying, but Harry was making her worse. His son’s doing well was making Granger try to do better, but she wasn't the one getting all the attention anymore, so it wasn't working the way the girl probably imagined.

"The book is amazing! I don't know why you didn't publish it," said Harry, amazed. "With the changed instructions, the potions are turning out… brilliantly. Slughorn's singing my praises; apparently I've got my mum's penchant for potions." His voice had turned teasing now.

"Indeed you have," Severus agreed, and he hated the fact that he hadn't seen it before. If Harry had been allowed to thrive, just how much better would he be at Potions? Even if it was just during detention or as they were now. Would Harry have been able to keep it a secret at that age? It was an awful thing to expect an eleven-year-old to keep; then again, he'd kept a much bigger one. Unfortunately, there was no way to undo the past, just undo the damage. Not all of it was reversible; the physical scars might be gone… but the mental scars left behind would stay with him until the day he died. "Go on, get some sleep; you're going to need it."

Harry quickly finished eating the chocolate sponge cake, placing the empty plate and fork down before getting up. His invisibility cloak coming around him, he walked to the door. "Night, Sev," he said, wishing he had the guts to call him what he really wanted to. If they both survived the war, then he swore he would say it, tell him how grateful he was to him for what he'd done for him. The chance of both of their surviving, though, was rather slim. He'd do everything in his power, which was admittedly a lot more, now that his dad was teaching him everything he could. It was perhaps too bad that one person couldn't read another's magical strands; otherwise Severus would have known long ago just how much Harry cared. As it was, they were private, and changed according to the wizard's feelings.

It was just whether that day would be too late or not… all anyone could do was wait and see. One thing was for certain... Harry would regret it forever if he never got the opportunity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for editing this guys you are amazing!


	50. Chapter 50

A New Place To Stay   
Chapter 50   
Nightmares And Lessons 

 

"You betrayed me Severus," hissed Voldemort. 

The image of Severus stood proud and tall, never once wavering, showing no fear to the monster before him. 

"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort snarled, his wand spitting the green light that would end Severus' life. 

"NO!" Harry screamed, his body lifting from the bed, unconsciously still grabbing for the wizard he loved as a father. Trembling and breathing heavily, he shivered with cold; he was soaked with sweat. Swallowing thickly, he lay back down, calming his breathing. This wasn't the first nightmare he'd had of such a thing happening. In fact, they were becoming more and more regular. At least they were just normal nightmares, since his Occlumency shields were fully functional. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he grabbed his wand and used a spell to find out the time. It was six a.m., still far too early for anyone to get up.

He couldn't stay in this bed; it was soaked with his sweat. Swinging his legs from the bed, he put his feet into his red slippers. Quietly he made his way to his trunk and removed his clothes and toiletries; since he wasn't going to get back to sleep, he might as well shower. That would mean he wouldn't have to wait until everyone else was done, the only problem with sharing a tower with lots of his classmates.

Closing the dorm door behind him, he made for the shower stalls, putting his clothes on the bench in the middle. There were no classes today; it was Sunday, and for that he was extremely grateful. Stepping in, he closed the curtain and put the shower on. It was already warm, unlike the Muggle showers that were cold for a few seconds until they heated up. His toiletry bag he placed on the shelf, ready to use when he wanted to. His nonverbal spell-casting was coming along really well. The only real downside to his week was the fact that Stan Shunpike had been arrested. Harry grabbed his shampoo as he thought about it, scrubbing his long black locks. There was no way the boy was a Death Eater; was this how they were going to operate? Arrest innocent people? Sometimes he wondered why he wanted to be part of the magical world. There was just no redeeming some people, but he loved magic too much to walk away from it.

The Quidditch tryouts were scheduled for today, and he was almost tempted to try out. Although he didn't want to give them the satisfaction, he so badly wanted to show off his new broom. Harry truly was more like his mother than he liked, cutting his own nose off to spite his face. Yet there was only so much someone could take before he snapped. With someone who cared in his life, Harry was less scared about what people thought. Having someone caring was a godsend, and he was grateful to Dumbledore for one thing. In trying to make him more miserable, he'd given him the one thing he wanted most: a family.

He had “detention” today with Severus; nobody seemed to realize anything was going on. They were still under the assumption that he and Severus hated each other... which he supposed was kind of the point. He'd never do anything to make Severus' position as a spy any more precarious than it already was. He had another “lesson” with Dumbledore in a few days. He wasn't looking forward to it at all. He hated spending time with him now; a few years ago he'd have forgiven anything just for some attention from him. He seemed to really care, but Harry had been such a fool to think so. Dumbledore expected him to die; he knew Harry was a Horcrux and was doing nothing about it. Yet Severus was working all the time, trying to come up with a potion to remove it. Dumbledore was as far from caring as someone could get, in Harry's opinion.

"Harry?" Neville called as he came into the shower room.

"Yes?" Harry asked.

"Thought it was you; no run today?" he commented as he put on his own shower and got ready for the day.

"Nope." Harry didn't really need to run every day, he was about as fit as he was ever going to get. He was still running during the week, Neville joining him more often than not if he was awake.

"Are we going to the ROR today?" Neville asked.

"Only for a while; I have detention with Snape," Harry said, sighing in exasperation. He couldn't quite be bothered to layer on his supposed hatred for Snape.

Neville laughed weakly. "You shouldn't have spoken back to him!" He still thought Harry was nuts for that.

"It was still funny, though," Harry said smugly.

Neville said nothing in turn. Truth be told, he was still insanely terrified of Professor Snape. The man had intimidated him ever since he'd stepped foot in Hogwarts; after growing up with his Gran, you'd think he'd be used to it. He wasn't; in fact he felt that Snape was worse than his grandmother. It didn't help that he couldn't brew to save himself. Herbs he knew, but potion ingredients had just never been his long suit. Snape didn't teach Potions anymore, but unfortunately he was no better with casting spells with Snape around than he was brewing. With Harry's help, though, he seemed to be getting much better. He'd succeeded in being second at casting the Patronus Charm.

Harry just smiled and shook his head, reaching for the towel that was hung on a hook just outside the shower stall. The house-elves always kept them fully stocked, and yet were never seen doing so. Turning the shower off with his other hand, he dried himself before stepping out and getting dressed.

"WHOA!" Neville breathed, staring at Harry wide-eyed, gaping at him.

Harry spun around, hastily getting his t-shirt and jumper on, once again covering the basilisk. Nobody else had seen it so far; he arched an eyebrow waiting for Neville to get himself back to normal.

"Finished?" he asked sarcastically.

"B-b-but where did you get a tattoo? You need to be seventeen!" Neville protested, still frankly astonished. You had to be of age to get magical tattoos; there was no option of having a parent consent for you. It was the same with getting your ears pierced― with anything involving blood.

"There's a spell that lets you do it," Harry said, hoping Neville didn't go digging and find out that his tattoo was actually his familiar... and a basilisk to boot.

"Really? I've never seen one," Neville said, eying Harry speculatively.

"Yup." Harry wasn't sure whether Neville believed him or not, but there was nothing to be done about it right now. He did feel a little bit guilty for lying; unfortunately, lying was all too familiar to him now. Not just to keep Severus safe, but himself too; there weren't many people who knew how he was treated at home. "Come on then; I'm starving," he added after yawning.

"I wonder who they arrested today?" muttered Neville bitterly; he and Harry had gotten into a heated discussion about it. Both of them were disgusted by how the Ministry was handling the situation. Arresting innocent people wasn't going to make everything go away. What could they do, though? They were just sixteen years old, nobody would listen to them. Neville so badly wanted to be involved, to prove himself; it was why he was training with Harry. He knew spells above sixth-year, something he shouldn't, but he couldn't care less. He trusted Harry more than anyone else. He would have Harry's back, and Harry would have his. There was no other person he'd follow to the pits of hell. At least Harry didn't laugh at him, or ridicule him when he made mistakes.

"Maybe they'll have the sense to keep quiet about it," Harry snorted derisively.

"I doubt it," Neville said, feeling the same about the Ministry as Harry did.

They were at war, and they were arresting innocent people― how much worse could it get?

The Great Hall was mostly empty, since nobody wanted to get out of bed too early. There were just a few older students, mostly Ravenclaws, eating breakfast with a book propped open in front of them. Sitting down in their usual spot, they ignored the teachers' inquisitive looks; they always did stare at him these days. Whether it was because of his work, or because he wasn't with Hermione and Ron and because he was up so early, they assumed he was up to something. Dumbledore's stare was the worst of them, staring proudly and grandfatherly at him.

"Nothing in the newspaper today," Neville commented as he chewed on some bacon thoughtfully.

"I don't know why we read it; it's just a lot of crap, and filled with information to manipulate us," Harry said, shaking his head as he ate some toast, scooping up some scrambled eggs and feeling very peckish still.

"Mmm," Neville made a noncommittal noise as he continued to read The Prophet.

Harry just smirked and shook his head.

"Want to read it?" Neville asked, holding out the paper.

"Nah, let's go," Harry said, seeing Hermione coming in; as an afterthought he grabbed an orange from the table. She was more insufferable lately; Harry blinked at his own thoughts… had he just thought of her as insufferable? Oh Merlin, he was becoming more and more like Severus as the days went by.

"You can't avoid her forever, you know," Neville said, chortling as they both left.

"Want to bet?" Harry said wryly, "She bloody tried to steal my potions book!" His voice was indignant at the end.

"Yeah, that was stupid," Neville agreed as they ran up the stairs, making their way to the Room of Requirement. Neville knew about the amended instructions written inside of it; it was just too bad he hadn't continued with Potions. He'd followed the instructions and actually succeeded in brewing the potion correctly... a little off-coloured, but still what it was supposed to be. Whoever wrote it was better than Snape ever was! Unfortunately, he couldn't change classes now. Slughorn hadn't bothered him since the train ride, but Harry wasn't as lucky. Slughorn kept trying to be overly friendly with him. Harry wasn't having any of it, though, keeping it strictly teacher and student. It was like Lockhart all over again, Harry told him, shuddering. Neville just told him it was too bad he couldn’t Obliviate Slughorn, too.

"I swear I could have cursed her for that," Harry said. Considering the spells he knew, it wouldn't be a good thing.

"Yeah, I saw," Neville remarked. Harry had actually picked up his wand, ready to curse her. Oddly enough, his arm had gone straight to his calf first, not his wrist. He wasn't sure, but he suspected Harry had a second wand. It saddened him that Harry didn't trust him completely, especially after finding out he had a tattoo! Of a snake! On his arm! A huge one! It had been awesome and looked so real. He doubted the others would understand; they'd just moan because it was a snake. Harry was a Parselmouth, though, so it made sense he would like them.

Harry stalked back and forth, wanting, no, needing the training room. One, two, three, then the door materialized in front of them. Neville had figured out how to work the room; he was pretty much an expert at it. Walking in, they found it as they normally had it, training dummies spread out in a row, with a platform if they wanted to duel one-on-one; the dummies were good, but not perfect― after all, people moved; dummies did not. Luna sometimes joined them.

"All right. We should start with nonverbal spells; you seem to have some trouble with that," said Harry as he took his wand from its holster.

"It's hard!" Neville protested.

"Yeah, to begin with it is, but once you know a few spells, they come dead easy," Harry said, trying to encourage his friend. He willed the room to add a feather, deciding to begin with a first-year spell. "All right, Nev, face the table and levitate it."

"That's a first-year spell," Neville groaned, suddenly having a flashback to his first Charms class—although thankfully the attention hadn't been on him that day; he hadn't made his feather explode, and then Hermione had levitated hers. It had taken him weeks to get it right; he was probably the third last person to get it. The last two had been two Slytherin boys, Crabbe and Goyle, who were only taking two classes this year from what he'd heard.

Harry smirked, unable to help himself, "Told you, it gets easier once you've tried a few spells."

"Oh, all right," Neville grumbled. Narrowing his eyes on the feather, wand raised, inwardly he chanted the spell he wanted: “Wingardium Leviosa.” He knew he could do it; he'd produced a fully fledged Patronus, for Merlin's sake. His thoughts infused his confidence further, and the feather began floating smugly through the air.

"See? Now try another one," Harry said, watching Neville with pride. This was his doing; it felt good, being able to teach someone something. Much better than it would, being an Auror, but not as good as being a healer. He shook off his thoughts; there was no point in them until the war was over.

"Hmm, which one?" Neville murmured, before thinking of the disarming spell. The beam of light blasted out the wand and hit the table, blasting it to pieces.

"You're getting the hang of it," Harry nodded in approval.

"Why didn't Snape do that?" Neville asked, feeling aggrieved.

"It's not his job to teach you spells you already know," Harry said without thinking it through.

"True," Neville acknowledged. "Can we try the shield charm now?"

"Go on then." said Harry removing his wand; he would be testing the effectiveness of Neville's spell.

\----------0

Severus Snape stalked down the corridor, with a single aim in mind: to find out what Draco Malfoy had planned. He could barely believe the Dark Lord had marked him― he was only sixteen years old and not even out of Hogwarts. He'd been watching him very closely, and when Draco thought nobody was looking, a look of weariness spread across his face. Whatever the Dark Lord wanted him to do was obviously stressing him to the max. He had to be alert to what he said; his godson had no proper mind shields. Anything he said could be found out if the Dark Lord raided his mind.

Draco had been spending a lot of time in the library; he feared it was to find out spells for his plan, whatever it was. So it didn't surprise him when that was exactly where Draco went once again. As usual, Draco had no sense; he couldn't even tell his own godfather was there. He wouldn't make a good Death Eater. He had no instincts to be cautious; he was too obvious and loud-mouthed. Harry had found out on the train about his being marked; who else knew?

Severus watched his godson, curiosity lingering in his eyes; he wasn't in the Dark Arts section. No, he was doing research; arching an eyebrow, he silently crept closer. Shock splashed across his face, he was researching the Dark Lord! He knew about his true name. What made him do that? Severus groaned quietly; he had a feeling he already knew… Harry. Just what had his son been up to? He might have just saved this generation of students from following their parents’ footsteps. If only it was that easy; most wouldn't feel they had a choice. Slytherins did what they had to, to survive; that did include joining the Dark Lord.

"He was right," Draco muttered in disbelief as he stared at the information in front of him. Half of him had suspected Potter to be lying through his teeth, yet here it was. Then again, Potter didn't make a habit of lying, he told the truth whether you wanted to hear it or not. He was marked by a Mudblood; he didn't care if that Mudblood was also the heir of Salazar Slytherin! Merlin, what was he supposed to do now? Unconsciously Draco began to scratch at his clothes-covered Mark as he tried to understand and come up with a plan.

Looking around and realizing where he was, he cursed silently as he grabbed everything and ran from the library. He couldn't let anyone see him this way; he was a Malfoy, he never showed emotions in public. It was the first thing his parents had drummed into him since he was a baby. His mum... he wished he could tell her, but it would be dangerous. His aunt might still be there, and she was crazy enough to kill her and then come after him. Family didn't mean anything to Bellatrix, and he was glad to be back at Hogwarts. Anything to get away from Malfoy Manor, a place that had been his home, his safe place until this summer.

"Draco, do watch where you are going," Severus said, staring down his large nose at his godson, in doing so getting a glimpse of how he felt. He was very conflicted, hurt, deeply afraid of the new information he'd found.

"Sorry, sir," Draco said, standing proud and tall, trying not to show how nervous he was. He knew his godfather was a Death Eater, but he'd always put him first… but would he against the Dark Lord? He wasn't sure and didn't want to find out any time soon.

"What are you up to?" Severus asked suspiciously; hoping a glimpse of his plans would come to the forefront of his mind.

"Nothing sir, just some homework," Draco answered impassively.

"Indeed?" replied Severus, "Very well, then, off you go." There was nothing to be done about it; Draco wasn't thinking about it. He did want to know what Draco had been ordered to do, to prove his worth to the Dark Lord. There were only two viable targets, Harry or Dumbledore, both whom he was deadly afraid of. It made sense to make it Harry, but the Dark Lord was insistent on being the one to kill him. So that made Dumbledore the only other target. There was no way Draco could do such a thing, yet that was perhaps the point of it all. Maybe Draco wasn't supposed to succeed― His way of punishing the son and the mother for the father's mistake.

Draco walked away, relief thrumming through him; he couldn't let him see the books he had. He didn't know if he would be protecting his godfather or protecting himself from the man. Everything was stressful these days. It was funny, that, but Draco wished he could go back to when life had been simple. To the age of eleven, when his only concern had been school, friends, house points, and maybe schoolboy rivalries. He couldn't even bring himself to look at Potter now.

"And, Draco?" Severus called, watching his godson stop and stiffen before turning around.

"Yes, sir?" he asked, curiosity bleeding into his voice.

"If you ever need me, all you need to do is come to me. I will do anything and everything in my power to help you," Severus said honestly. The ball was in Draco's court now; it was his decision. Severus had done all he could to help him, and if he couldn't, he'd just have to live with it. It wasn't a decision he'd wish on anyone, living with the Mark; he knew how it felt.

Draco's lips twitched into a half-smile, half-grimace, the guilt churning uncomfortably in his stomach. "Thanks, Sev," he whispered quietly before leaving. He didn't normally call him Sev during the school year. Then again, Severus didn't usually act all godfatherly during the school year. He must be getting soft; either that, or he saw right through Draco’s masks and knew he was depressed. This wouldn't surprise him; Severus was just brilliant like that. If there was anyone he'd strive to be like, it would be the man in front of him. Seven years ago it would have been his father, but he'd been an idiot, unaware of just what kind of man his father truly was.

Severus watched his godson go, tiredly rubbing at his eyes, his desire to save everyone burning strongly. He knew it was wishful thinking. He couldn't save everyone; he'd learned that very quickly during his first few weeks into spying. Learnt it personally when Lily had died, after all the trouble he'd gone to, to keep her safe. All he could do was teach Harry everything he could; by keeping his son alive he'd be effectively saving everyone else.

Speaking of Harry, they had “detention,” which meant more training, while Zar took off for the day. If he accidentally hit Harry with Zar on him, the basilisk would either be hurt too, or come off to defend him. Not something Severus wanted happening, thank you very much. Come next year, Zar would have to stay behind, there was just no way he could keep doing this. He was inches bigger already since the start of term; if he continued at the same rate, he'd be fully grown very soon. If anything happened to Zar or someone within the school, it would devastate his son. So they truly did need to be cautious. Turning, he headed off in the direction of his quarters, knowing his son would be down soon. He could only hope Draco sought him out or figured out something for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jake and Jordre - thanks so much for editing!


	51. Chapter 51

A New Place To Stay 

Chapter 51 

A Few Weeks Go By 

Three nearly four weeks had gone by in the blink of an eye. October was almost behind them and the weather was steadily getting colder. Which it had been doing already for the past month or so, thankfully Hogwarts was always warm, she must have warming spells woven into her walls. Although when the harsher weather begun, you could tell it wasn’t enough to heat anyone up. On Monday Harry had met with Dumbledore, as the Headmaster had once again demanded. Learning more about Voldemort’s ‘personality’ keeping up his Potter persona near Dumbledore was becoming tedious. Severus wasn’t any happier with Dumbledore either, especially with what Harry was ‘learning’ while in the old fool’s company. Or it might be to do with the lack of sleep as of late. He’d spent a great deal of his time in the Potions lab, the only time Harry saw him lately had been when they had lessons together. Or according to the entire Hogwarts inhabitants ‘Detention’ for the smallest thing. 

The only thing about the past few weeks was Draco Malfoy; he was quiet, too quiet by far. He was avoiding him like last year all over again, and frankly Harry was worried about what he was up to. He was marked, a Death Eater, just what was he up to? Harry made sure not to eat or drink anything he hadn’t checked for potions or spells; he didn’t trust the boy as far as he could throw him. Sure people deserved a second chance, but that’s only if they changed, learned the errors of their ways (a bit like Hermione and Ron). Unfortunately they hadn’t learned, they’d just continued to try and get him to forget about it and move on, and be his friend again. Ron following him everywhere last year and Hermione’s jealousy. If he’d wanted to forgive them…he couldn’t not when they were being the way they were with him. 

Luna and Neville were in the library, planning on going to the ROR for a while later, but Harry had ‘detention’ with Severus again. He made sure to be seen going to the classroom, before donning his cloak and making his way to his ‘dad’s’ quarters in silence. Zar was out, had been for a week nearly much to his worry, but he knew Zar could take care of himself. He was actually more worried about everyone in Hogwarts; he didn’t want the rumours of second year happening all over again. Zar had grown up so fast and so soon, he missed him when he wasn’t there, but considering the alternative he was lucky he knew that. If he hadn’t found the familiar bonding spell, Zar would have had to go into the chamber. He had been too big to wander around with him anymore. 

“Hi,” said Harry wandering in surprised to see Severus sitting there, the Marauders map open on his lap. He put his cloak on the peg at the door and sat down. “No training?” Severus shook his head negatively, and Harry couldn’t help but feel surprised. Severus was a meticulous man; he liked order in his life, and did the same things every week. He’d realized why though, since he lacked control anywhere else, especially with Voldemort, he liked to create his own elsewhere. 

“I have the potion to remove the Horcrux perfected,” said Severus, he’d been trying to order Phoenix tears, for weeks but none had been available on the market. Not even the allure of getting five grams of Basilisk skin had tempted anyone he knew to admit they had any. Just when he’d given up all hope to get the second potion started never mind completed when Fawkes appeared in his workroom. Now he had an entire vial of tears, only two drops had been necessary for the second potion. The rest he’d use sparingly, after all, its not often phoenix’s willing cried for anyone. 

“Okay,” said Harry staring at his dad shrewdly, he didn’t look the slightest bit happy, and he’d just invented a potion. He might be tired, but Harry somehow didn’t think that was the problem. “What’s wrong am I going to have to die for it to work?” joked Harry. 

“Yes,” said Severus staring at Harry with a blank look on his face, hiding the worry he was feeling to such a degree he didn’t want to give Harry the potion to remove the soul fragment. 

“What?” cried Harry in surprise, that wasn’t the response he’d been hoping for! And there wasn’t even a note of sarcasm in his voice, he was serious. Harry stared at his dad pale and clammy, not sure about the turn of events today. If there was anyone he trusted it was him…but dying to remove it…well it was only in human nature to protest stubbornly against it. 

“Do you trust me Harry?” asked Severus, shifting to the edge of his seat, admittedly apprehensive about Harry’s reply. He’d protected Harry, trained him, given him what he wanted more than anything else in the world, would it be enough? Did Harry have enough belief him enough to go through with this?   
“You know I do.” said Harry bluntly, and it was true. Severus was a father figure, mentor, and psychologist all wrapped into one. He’d still be a clueless idiot today if it hadn’t been for his help. Or rather a lost idiot maybe, he’d known about Dumbledore etc… but not about the Prophecy, why he was being targeted. Hell Severus had taught him everything he needed to know to survive…when Dumbledore kept telling him ‘love’ would save him. Harry was convinced the old fool was completely barmy by this point. On the other hand he wasn’t really prepared to ‘die’ at least without knowing everything. “What happens?” 

Severus’ lips twitched, yes he could see how Harry was meant to be a Slytherin, whether he trusted him completely or not he wanted answers before they did anything. “Sit down,” said Severus it would take a while, perhaps this was the best time to get something in him, who knows what would happen afterwards. 

Harry plopped down on the seat arranging himself comfortably on it. “So?” enquired Harry curiously, just how was this going to play out? 

“Dobby?” called Severus. 

“Yes sir?” asked the house elf making an appearance, his eyes wide with excitement; he loved serving Master Severus and Harry. There was never a dull moment for the house elf, he’d had most fun watching Umbridge squirm. A tad bit more watching Dumbledore get his dues. 

“Bring us some coffee, juice and something to eat,” said Severus without pause or wasting time. 

“Dobby will be doing that right now,” said the house elf before disappearing, happy that someone was taking care of his Master Harry Potter. 

“It’s not as simple as our last attempt,” admitted Severus, “I think I know why it’s not working, it’s not just stuck to your magical core, but your life as well. The potion has Basilisk venom in it, which will do what the venom always does. The second your heart stops beating the Horcrux should be leached from your core and disappear. As soon as that’s happened I will administer the second potion, which has phoenix tears in it, it will heal all the damage that occurred.” 

“Why didn’t it come away in my second year?” asked Harry thoughtfully as he laid his chin on the arm of the chair staring pensively across at Severus. “I came very close to dying.” 

“I have often wondered that myself, my guess is you didn’t die so it didn’t work.” said Severus. “This time you will, and then I am going to resuscitate you once the second potion is in your system.” 

“You don’t have to sound so calm about it,” grumbled Harry moving onto his back, staring at the ceiling. 

Severus chuckled “When do you ever see me panicking?” he asked wryly. 

Harry just ‘pft’ from where he lay his stomach in knots, he wanted that piece of Voldemort out of him, but at what cost? What if it all went wrong? What if he really did die? Harry sighed; he knew he had to do this. Not only was it leaching his magic…he couldn’t take the risk of Voldemort finding information about Severus. Or worse yet Voldemort actually possessing him through the soul piece. 

“If you do not want to do this Harry I understand,” said Severus quietly, staring at him, the waves of nervousness was radiating from him. He could understand it; he himself would never go through with what he was asking Harry. The abused part of him was probably rebelling dangerously. The part that had against all odds remained intact, the thirst for survival so strong that he’d defied the Dark Lord as many times as he had. 

“It’s not an option of whether I want to or not, you know that.” murmured Harry resignedly. 

Severus didn’t respond knowing Harry was correct in that regard.   
Dobby returned with their food but Harry’s stomach just knotted further just seeing it. 

“It will help you if you eat something Harry,” said Severus spookily as if he could read Harry’s thoughts. Which he knew to be impossible, his shields were always up, even when he was asleep.   
“I don’t think I can,” said Harry turning away from the food unable to look at it. 

Severus just left it; it would do no good to force Harry’s hand when he was in this kind of mood. If he was honest with himself he wasn’t that hungry either. He did however, take the coffee and drink it he needed all the strength he could get. He was quite frankly exhausted, the potion had required near constant supervision for an entire week. It came as no surprise to anyone that the students had paid for it. With the loss of house points only, oddly enough never giving out detentions unless it was to another teacher. Harry was the only exception he’d made, of course. 

“Can we just get this over with?” said Harry, before he changed his mind was left unspoken but heard loudly as if it had been screamed. 

“Alright,” said Severus in agreement, strengthening his resolve before he backed out himself. He’d quadruple checked his results, he knew it would work. Otherwise he wouldn’t dare risk Harry’s life, he wasn’t Dumbledore he’d never set out on a half cocked schemes. Or waste time teaching Harry about the Dark Lord’s personality as a young boy, he was insane now that’s all Harry needed to know. The potions were lying on the table looking innocent enough if they both didn’t already know what was inside one of them. Zar’s basilisk venom. 

“This one first,” said Severus his heartbeat beating through the roof but he gave no indication of his worry. 

Harry took the potion and pried the cork out, shivering slightly; if this was anything like second year…he was going to be in agony. He had to do this, he didn’t want Voldemort’s soul in him, and he didn’t want more visions or anything that could come through his shields. Closing his eyes, his mind drifted to Luna, Neville, and Severus…Merlin help him, the things he did for people he cared about. With that he swallowed the potion in one swift motion; the pain started immediately completely incapacitating Harry. He fell to the floor, a tortured moan of agony leaving his lips as he began twitching in anguish. 

Severus crouched down next Harry, the other potion right next to him along with his wand. His mask abandoned as he watched Harry suffer in silence. Holding him in place as he tried to futility help his son ride out the pain. He could give nothing to him, nothing that would help in any case. Venom was far too strong for even the strongest pain relief to work; it would just burn out within seconds. 

Harry wanted to die, he couldn’t take it anymore, it hadn’t been this painful back in his second year. Each breath was a struggle to get into his lungs as his heart began to slow beat by beat. He wanted to shout to Severus, to tell him to put him out of his misery; he just couldn’t do it, that he was sorry he wasn’t strong enough. Unfortunately his mouth just didn’t want to cooperate, it was clenched so tightly shut he couldn’t scream like he wanted to. It seemed as though it had gone on for hours, then to his sweet relief he could feel the pain stopping, had it worked? Had he died? Then with one last thump of his heart it gave out, and Harry was lost to oblivion…his thoughts ceased. 

Fear he’d never experienced before, not even on that faithful Halloween night coursed through him, when Harry abruptly stopped breathing. There was no flash of light, no nothing to indicate a soul fragment was coming away. Praying he hadn’t put Harry though this for nothing, he poured the potion down Harry’s unresisting throat before continuous casting a spell to restart Harry’s heart. Each second was like minutes as he worked frantically to get Harry breathing again. 

Then a threatening hissing sound emanated from the corner of the room, where the opening was for Zar to come and go. His teeth were bared in an evil sadistic manner, as he came further into the room, its yellow eyes piercing Severus with what could only be described as betrayal and fury. 

“Stop!” said Severus his voice strangely hoarse, “He will be fine, I promise.” he was more than grateful that Zar could understand English right now; otherwise he knew the basilisk would have bitten him. He was so very loyal to Harry, and it was no wonder - Harry spoiled him. 

Zar stopped coming forward, his large tongue flickering out before he declared Severus’ statement as truthful. He lay there, tail swishing impatiently, breaking a table in the process - waiting on Severus bringing back his Harry. 

Severus went back to Harry, doing CPR on him, not wanting to use the spell too much knowing how hard it was on the heart. Five compressions at a time, before he breathed into Harry’s mouth, not allowing himself to think on anything else at the moment. He refused to, because he knew if he did he’d lose concentration and start berating himself for not finding an alternative manner to deal with the Horcrux. He knew deep down he’d exhausted all and every means he had at his disposal. Just as he began to fear Harry wouldn’t respond to anything, after all it was taking too long, any longer he’d have permanent brain damage, a big shuddering breathe left Harry’s lips. Severus could have laughed if he wasn’t such a composed man. He was alive, that’s all that mattered right now.   
“Harry? Can you hear me?” asked Severus staring straight into Harry’s eyes but they were glassy, which didn’t surprise him he’d just technically died. “Squeeze my hand if you can understand me Harry, now.” he had to know he’d not caused any permanent damage. His hand was in Harry’s waiting with bated breath for some sign…anything. 

Harry felt as though a truck had landed on his chest, his body was weaker than it had ever felt before. He could hear someone speaking to him…who was it? What had happened? Had he almost died again? The voice was familiar, he repeated what he was saying and finally the words finally penetrated the fog around his mind. His hand…squeeze it, surely he could do that? Harry tried he really did, but all he managed was to weakly grab onto it for a few seconds before it fell limp at his side again. 

He was there, he’d squeezed his hand, good, and he breathed a sigh of relief so profoundly that he almost just lay down there next to Harry to regain his lost composure. He wanted to check if the Horcrux was gone, but he couldn’t do that, not right now. Harry’s mind was probably very fragile, standing up he levitated Harry onto the couch. 

“Accio pain reliever,” murmured Severus, grabbing it from mid air and feeding it to his barely conscious son. If he wasn’t recovered by tonight they were going to have some explaining to do. At least it was the weekend; he didn’t have class to worry about or teachers. Neville Longbottom wasn’t one to go to the teachers; in fact all the years there he’d never once gone to one. Not even to tell the teachers that Harry, Ron and Hermione were planning on sneaking out at night. Neville kept himself to himself, trying not to draw attention to himself. Although these days it was hard not to do, since he had the limelight that came with being Harry Potter’s friend, and the weight he’d lost, he was becoming a young man, one that Frank Longbottom would be proud to call his son. When he wasn’t near Neville was brilliant in his class, Patronus, non-verbal magic, it was as though Harry was instilling confidence that even he couldn’t shake from the boy. Not that he did, he mostly left him alone, preferring to ‘target’ Harry as they thought. 

“Better?” enquired Severus feeling his own emotions return to normal. 

Harry unable to talk, merely nodded his head, he did feel better…the pain was fading away leaving him even more lethargic than ever. Then Harry heard it, hissing…actual hissing, it broke his heart and he was unable to help the tear that ran down his face…he’d lost his ability to talk to snakes…he’d lost Zar. Then oblivion claimed him taking with it his chaotic emotions.


	52. Chapter 52

A New Place To Stay 

Chapter 52 

Waiting 

Sitting down on the chair, staring blankly at the floor, a shudder ran through Severus’ thin frame, his hands were shaking badly. He’d seen and done a lot of things in his life, most of it admittedly not pretty. Yet this…had without about been the most difficult, it had affected him right to the core of being. Curling his fingers into balls, cursing himself, for showing weakness. His mind was no help whatsoever, the episode kept repeating itself over and over again in his mind. Merlin, Harry had just about died for real, if he hadn’t started breathing when he did… Jumping from the couch, he ran towards the bathroom, before he was spectacularly sick down the toilet. Holding onto the toilet bowl, still shaking as his stomach rebelled against having anything inside of it anymore. 

Groaning weakly, pressing his pound head against the cold porcelain, he hadn’t felt like this in a long time. Almost like he’d drank too much, and this was the results. Fifteen years to be exact, after seeing Lily that Halloween night…dead never to return. He’d gotten himself enormously drunk, for weeks, trying to block the sight of her dead body from his mind. He hadn’t cared then, but now he did, how Harry had been sobbing in the background, his life irrevocably changed. His own godfather handing him over to Hagrid just to run after Pettigrew. Then placed in a family that would continue to abuse him for years. He dreaded to think what would have happened if not for his interference. Yet he knew, Dumbledore would have expected Harry to sacrifice himself for every single ungrateful, cowardly, simplistic, idiots that made up the magical population of the British magical world. 

He sat there for what felt likes days, as his knees stiffened and ached, and his stomach continued to heave. Unfortunately nothing but acid came up, since Severus hadn’t been eating properly, too immersed in his potions to really notice anything. Flushing the toilet to get rid of the sick as well as the smell, he shakily got to his feet holding onto the sink to keep his balance. He hadn’t expected it to be as hard as it had been, to go through with this. 

Staring in the bathroom mirror, his black eyes drawn and haunted, closing his eyes he breathed as evenly as possible. The churning in his stomach continued, Severus opened his cabinet and removed three potions from within it. Swallowing them with great difficulty and his stomach finally began to settle down. Blindly removing his toothbrush from its holder, and automatically began brushing his teeth. Removing the taste of sick, acid and potion residue from his mouth. Feeling worried after an image of Harry’s still form flashed before his eyes, he went back into his living area. Staring at Harry’s sleeping form, just watching him breathe, it might seem stupid, but after what he’d just been through, anyone would have done the same thing. 

“How’s my human?” hissed Zar from where he was draped over his sleeping form. His tongue flicking out to taste the air as if it would tell him his answer. His large body half off the couch, and the rest of him lying across Harry’s legs, nestling comfortably by the look of things. 

“He’s sleeping, he will be fine Zar,” said Severus in English, sometimes it still surprised him how used he’d gotten to being able to understand Parseltongue. A basilisk, Harry didn’t half do things differently that’s for sure. Not even Voldemort had a basilisk, it was a good job he didn’t, or the world would really have been in danger. He’d already caused the demise of one, something Harry regretted, you could tell when he spoke about it. Irony abounds, more regret for a snake than he had for a human he’d killed during his first year. Although everyone could agree that Quirrell brought it on himself. 

“He better be,” hissed Zar in warning, if anything happened to his human he wouldn’t be happy in the slightest. 

Severus just shook his head, he knew Zar wouldn’t hurt him, well…giving him another look… feeling a little apprehensive he was pretty sure. He certainly wouldn’t like to put it to the test anyway. It was Harry he loved the most, the bond they shared was deep. There was little doubt, Zar had evidently felt Harry’s distress and had gotten here so fast, never let it be said that Basilisk’s were slow because of their size. He knew without a doubt it was not true in the slightest. He had already known that, thanks to seeing the Basilisk in action during the whole Chamber fiasco.   
If he’d been able he would have cast a spell to make him lightweight, having Zar on Harry made him feel unnecessarily worried. Shaking his head he sat down on the chair right next to Harry, so he could keep an eye on him. It was a good thing he could keep himself composed no matter the circumstances. If he’d allowed himself to panic blindly things could have gone horribly wrong. He’d come close to it though, much closer than he was comfortable with. He prayed that it had worked, this had been his last solution, and there was no other alternative to be had. He wasn’t sure how it would affect the future, but he wasn’t even going to consider Dumbledore’s probable solution in dealing with it. If Dumbledore dared to bring it up, well he’d show the old fool a taste of his true powers. 

\--------0 

Severus jerked awake, aware of the throbbing aches all over his body; he observed the scene in front of him as a grimace of pain left his lips. He could barely believe he’d fallen asleep on the couch, flicking his wand he used a spell to find out the time. Inhaling sharply in disbelief, jerking himself out of the chair, he drank a muscle relaxant potion before spelling his clothe straight. He had no more time to do anything other than get his arse to the Great Hall for breakfast. He was never late for anything, and to start doing so would raise anyone’s suspicions. 

Sliding into the Great Hall, ignoring the hush that fell over it, the students always reacted like that when he was in the vicinity, yes, even his Slytherin’s. He wasn’t surprised when they began talking again, sitting himself between Minerva and Sprout. The Head of houses always had a seat next to the Headmaster for some inane reason. Which meant Flitwick was stuck beside Hagrid, who had more than once accidentally stabbed Flitwick with a fork. Too busy talking to pay attention where he was putting the damn thing, missing the food trays by miles. None of the teachers spoke to him, which as probably a good thing. He was lucky if he got three hours sleep last night, for sitting vigil by Harry’s side. 

Severus mostly picked at his food, moodily observing everyone, his lip curling in repugnance. He couldn’t understand how anyone could be so damn cheerful all the time, it grated on his nerves. Part of the reason he’d never been a good teacher in the first place. Sunday morning, and they were all up and…boisterous, there was only a few students who even looked tired. 

“Did you even sleep last night Severus? You look exhausted.” said Minerva as she placed her coffee back down; she was one of the few who never took offence to his tone or words, well with the exception of Harry when he was brought into the subject. 

Severus just grunted not bothering to grace her with an answer. 

“That bad?” said Minerva when he didn’t reply with a sarcastic retort. 

Severus simply rolled his eyes at the woman. 

Albus Dumbledore stood up, which prompted Minerva to tap on her goblet to try and gain everyone’s attention. The hall little by little got quieter until they were all staring curiously. It wasn’t often their breakfast was interrupted by the staff, at least not after the starting feast anyway. 

“As you all know Hogsmeade trips are just around the corner, if you wish to attend, please give the permission slips to your head of house before the twelfth of October which is less than a week away. No signed permission means you won’t be attending.” he said solemnly, his eyes roaming looking for Harry in particular, but he didn’t seem to be up yet. “That is all, thank you have a good weekend!” he beamed before sitting down, his twinkle slightly disturbed as he stared down at the Gryffindor table. He’d been noticing it for a while now, but there was something disturbing about Harry. He was different, quite, sombre, and acting very strange, not like the boy he knew that’s for certain. 

“Excuse me,” said Severus removing himself from the table, and making his way to his quarters, intending on checking upon Harry.   
“Sir! Sir!” called a voice stopping Severus in his tracks, he of course knew that voice, and he could barely believe he was actually coming to him willingly and without his damn stutter. There was time for that; unfortunately the desire to be vicious to the boy was gone. Harry didn’t have many friends; he’d always been that way, choosing a few rather than having a lot. He could have been extremely popular, but chose instead to have a few friends he felt would be loyal and true to him as a boy apposed to a hero. Longbottom had never cared for Harry’s title. 

“What is it Longbottom? I have better things to do than stand here watching you gaping,” snapped Severus after twirling around staring at the boy, his face impassive. 

“Do you know where Harry is Sir?” asked Neville, suspicion in his eyes. 

“Why would I, Longbottom?” sneered Severus his eyes glittering dangerously. Had the boy been to McGonagall? No probably not, otherwise she would have said something earlier. The boy was suspicious of him, why hadn’t he gone to her? It wasn’t the first time he’d failed to report Harry missing from the dorms when he stayed down in his quarters. Merlin, the urge to read the boy’s thoughts were strong, but he’d never violate someone that way. Sure he knew when people were being dishonest, but that’s because of ‘the tells’ the body had, nothing to do with performing Legilimency on people. 

“He had detention last night, nobody has seen him since.” said Neville, there was something going on, and his mind was filled with all sorts of things. Things he actually didn’t want to think about, which did include Snape and Harry together, but he couldn’t help but think he was wrong. Harry had shown no interest in anyone, didn’t act as though he was in love. He would figure it out somehow, someway, but he wouldn’t do Harry the disservice of getting him in trouble or telling on him. Not only would it flush their friendship down the drain, but he would hate to disappoint Harry. 

“Not my problem, Longbottom.” snapped Severus, turning around he stalked back down to the Dungeon’s without another word. Hopefully Harry would wake up soon, he had to make an appearance or people would get even more suspicious. Harry wasn’t someone who could blend into the background and be forgotten, he was the boy who lived whether he liked it or not. 

The wards on his quarters let him pass, closing the door firmly behind him to find Harry and of course his permanent shadow Zar still on the couch. Zar lifted his head his eyes blinking open (always shielded so nobody ended up petrified) and staring at him before returning to its original position. Pinching the bridge of his nose in impatience, the wait was getting on Severus' last nerve. He needed to know Harry was okay, recovering, and Horcrux free. 

Should he wake him or should he just leave him to rest and screw everyone in Hogwarts? At this point in time, he didn’t really care what they thought; he never had in all honesty. The choice was taken from him when Harry began to stir in his sleep. Summoning potions he took a seat, waiting on Harry returning to the land of the living. There would be no training today anyway; Harry needed time to recover from the ordeal. His magic may be affected, so perhaps he should test it. 

“Who’s been dancing on my chest?” murmured Harry his eyes popping open. 

Severus couldn’t help but chuckle quietly, “That would be me.” 

“Great,” said Harry, wincing finding it hard to breathe without pain flaring in all directions in his chest. 

Then he heard that hissing again, his eyes met Zar’s before filling with tears. “Zar,” choked Harry, sounding as if he’d just lost the most valuable thing in his life. 

Severus sat straighter alarmed by the pain in Harry’s voice, what on earth was going on? “Harry?” questioned Severus. 

“I can’t understand him anymore,” said Harry still choking in the lump that was steadily growing in size, inside his throat. 

Severus’ own chest tightened in sympathy for the pain Harry was currently experiencing. There was nothing he could say or do to help him. The loss of such a gift…could never be recovered, he was grateful that he still had some of Zar’s eggs so he could brew the potion again. It might not be the same, but at least Harry would understand Zar again. He didn’t understand why it was gone; Harry had been speaking parseltongue for years, conversing with Zar on a daily basis. He should still be able to understand him even if he couldn’t actually speak it, but Parselmouth wasn’t a language open to interpretation. It was a gift, you either had it or you didn’t, the likely hood that the Horcrux had caused it seemed more and more likely now. Which meant he had succeeded in his endeavour to remove it, but wouldn’t get ahead of himself until he knew for certain. 

Harry closed his eyes and hugged the huge basilisk close, tears pouring out of his eyes, as devastation wracked his frame. Harry’s hands were only had way around the basilisk, stroking its scales. Zar was still hissing at him, and then it happened…he understood one of the words, before hissing resumed. Harry arched back, his eyes wide continuing to listen to Zar praying it would happen again and it hadn’t been his own imagination that was desperate to cling on to the fact he may still be able to talk to snakes. Zar never once stopped hissing, even Severus had gone quiet, and he was the only one that understood him now. Now wasn’t that ironic, a while ago it had been the other way around. 

The more Zar continued to hiss at him, the more words Harry began to make sense of. As he did so Harry’s heartbeat accelerated, hope blooming like a flower in the spring. The tears had dried up, and he began to understand more and more, it was coming back to him! He could barely believe it but it was. Why? How? It made no sense, but for the first time in Harry’s life he didn’t care! If it enabled him to speak to his familiar again well why should he care? 

“I can understand him,” breathed Harry incredulity washing over him. 

"You just spoke in parseltongue," said Severus, glad Harry had not lost such a wonderful gift, if only for the sake of his son's happiness, when his familiar was concerned anyway. 

“Silly human, you know you got your gift from family,” hissed Zar, shaking its large head in apparent exasperation. He was elated to see his human was awake again, and unhurt. When he’d felt his human hurting through the bond, he’d gone nuts, abandoning his hunt for food and getting back here in record time. 

Well when the basilisk put it like that, it did make Harry feel incredibly sheepish. For Zar was correct, he was related to the founders, through the Peverell’s, to whom both he and Voldemort were related. Slumping against his familiar in relief, overjoyed that he hadn’t lost him. He couldn’t deny speaking Parselmouth made him feel slightly special, not ashamed like he used to be at the age of twelve. No, he had enjoyed speaking to the Python at the zoo before all that, his shame stemmed solely for the fact people were calling him a Dark Wizard. 

“Look at me,” said Severus coming forward crouching down next to Harry so they were eye to eye. “Is your chest still sore?” he asked as he inspected Harry’s eyes, for what Harry hadn’t a clue. 

“Yes,” said Harry, as if that pain was going to go away quickly. 

Severus nodded as if he’d suspected as much, handing over three potions for him to take. “Take your top off,” he then demanded. 

Harry raised an eyebrow, but did as he was asked; Severus had seen him in a lot less, because sometimes during training or doing the gardening back at Prince Manor he removed his top because he was too hot or too sweaty. He understood why when he looked down; there was a huge bruise on his sternum. No wonder he was in agony, but as soon as the salve was rubbed in, the coolness and potion began doing its work, healing the damage done. “Thanks,” said Harry quietly, having someone taking care of him and helping him was still new; it was moments like this that really touched Harry. Made him see Severus more and more of a father figure, despite knowing it would destroy his relationship with Sirius when he found out. Sirius and Severus hated each other so much; he didn’t think for a minute he’d be able to have both of them in his life. As angry as he got at Sirius, he still loved him in his own way, the way one loved a stupid harebrained friend or relative he guessed. 

“I am sorry,” said Severus, feeling an indiscernible emotion run through him seeing the bruise on Harry’s chest and knowing he’d done it. 

“Can we check the Horcrux is gone?” asked Harry changing the subject unaware of Severus’ inner turmoil. 

“Of course,” said Severus curtly, “Don’t fight it.” he added despite the fact they’d done this dozens of times in the past to box up the Horcrux. Each time getting easier than the last, surprisingly, when it really should have been the other way around with Harry creating mind shields to close his mind from intrusion. 

Harry nodded, green eyes meeting black and lowering his shields giving Severus full access to his mind. There was nobody else he trusted, after all Severus knew absolutely everything, no almost everything there was to know about him. The only thing he didn’t know was Harry’s desire to call him dad, and… well to be his son. Harry had never known his biological one, other than the fact he liked Quidditch, was on the team Gryffindor team, good at Transfiguration and that he had become an Auror. He had until two years ago known even less about his mum, who had sacrificed her life to save him. Not that he knew everything now, but thanks to the information he’d been able to wrangle out of Severus when he was in a good mood…he knew quite a bit. 

Severus delved inside, passed the strands of magic, to find there were a few more than last time. Continuing on, he found Harry’s magical core, now just yesterday, there had been a glowing green and black pulsating small ball of magic attached to Harry’s. There was nothing at all there, no sign of another persons magic, if he didn’t know any better he’d say the gold colour of Harry’s magical core had brightened. Having the information he needed, he slipped out, removing himself from Harry’s mind taking care not to go to fast and hurt him. 

“It’s gone,” said Severus taking a deep breath, it was exhausting delving so far into someone’s magic. Not as much as moving a leech, which he didn’t have to do anymore. 

“Thank Merlin,” said Harry relieved beyond belief. “You did it!” unable to conceal his pride, he was always amazed at how brilliant his dad was. He created spells, potions anything at the drop of a hat; he could never do what Severus could. Such a life shouldn’t be wasted teaching them how to brew potions or defence. He couldn’t help but wonder what life would be like once Voldemort was gone. Would Severus still want him? Would he still be welcome in Prince Manor? Or would he be moved aside after his purpose was complete? He swallowed thickly, removing the thoughts not wanting to dwell on them. He’d deal with it if and when it happened, and be happy right now. Harry had always been good at doing that. Living life for the moment. 

“I did,” said Severus, his lips twitching into a small extremely rare smile. 

“You are brilliant,” said Harry honestly, “You are.” seeing Severus’ masks slip on, he didn’t know how to deal with people complimenting him then. 

“Go on, you have to make an appearance in the Great Hall, I’m sure Neville is worried about you. He approached me earlier wanting to know where you were.” said Severus, trying to shoo Harry away, not replying to his earlier statement. 

“Neville actually came up to you and asked about me?” gaped Harry completely and utterly gobsmacked as he slid out of Zar’s hold and sat up. He could barely believe his ears, if he didn’t know Severus so well; he would have assumed he was kidding him on. 

“Without stuttering,” added Severus as an afterthought banishing the used potions bottles to the sink in his lab. Getting his quarters back into an orderly fashion. 

“Whoa!” said Harry grabbing a hold of the couch as the room span around him. 

“Easy,” said Severus looking over his eyes narrowed in concern, from where he stood in the kitchen boiling up the kettle to have a coffee. Now that Harry was really alright, he found himself suddenly extremely hungry. It’s what he got for shuffling his food around on his plate earlier. Thankfully the house elves would be all too happy to help him out. 

“I’m fine,” said Harry shaking his head as he tested his limbs, he must have just gotten up to quickly. 

“Before you go, I want you to test your magic, it may have decreased or increased without the Horcrux.” said Severus, coming back into the living room. 

“Accio cloak,” said Harry using the wand that once belonged to Slytherin’s son, the cloak came to him without a problem. 

“Well?” asked Severus curiously. 

“It’s a little bit more powerful, nothing anyone will notice,” said Harry looking relieved at that. 

“Very good,” said Severus, “Go on then, get some breakfast, eat it all you need your strength. Use this when you go to your bed tonight.” added Severus handing Harry a jar of the salve he’d just used on his chest not five minutes ago. 

“Alright,” said Harry, shrugging on his cloak and pocketing the jar, “I’ll see you later.” 

“Bye,” said Severus watching Harry go. His thoughts lingered on Harry’s words, ‘you are brilliant, you are.’ he knew he was, and he wasn’t being completely smug. Yet he had felt very peculiar when Harry had said it to him, nobody had ever said anything like that before. Never had anyone acknowledged his contributions to the magical society, his eyes when he’d said it had transported him back to the age of nine, the way Lily used to look at him. Had she thought he was brilliant back then? Their look had been identical, unfortunately he would never know, Lily was gone half because of his actions and Pettigrew’s.


	53. Chapter 53

A New Place To Stay 

Chapter 53 

Hogsmeade 

A week had gone by since Harry had been finally rid of the Horcrux he’d carried around for fifteen years. If Severus hadn’t been aware of what was happening, he would have been slightly befuddled. Harry had said his magic had only increased slightly, but during their training Severus realized it was more than just slightly. Harry had broken through his shield with only two spells, and he’d been putting a lot of magic into it. He was proud of the progress Harry was making, Severus was sure Harry could hold his own against some of the more tough Death Eaters. He doubted he’d ever think Harry was ready to face the Dark Lord though, mostly because of his feelings towards the teen. He’d taught Harry magic that the light side wouldn’t approve of, boarding dark but never actually stamped as ‘Dark’. 

“You cannot go to Hogsmeade,” said Severus his eyes narrowed, his arms crossed determination radiated from him. 

“I can, Sirius signed it for me,” said Harry lowering his piece of toast confused. 

“Let me rephrase that, you aren’t going,” said Severus sarcastically. 

“Yes I am,” said Harry firmly. 

“Harry!” sighed Severus exasperated, biting his tongue from just demanding again, it evidently wouldn’t work. “To go out into the open is just asking for trouble.” 

Harry snorted “I don’t think so, nothing will happen until the end of the year.” 

Severus hissed beyond infuriated with Harry, standing up shaking his head, fine on his head be it. Harry obviously wasn’t going to listen to him, so he would just stop wasting his breath. Added to the fact he couldn’t actually ban Harry from going, he did have permission from that blasted godfather of his. What was the fool thinking? Did he want his godson killed? Because his actions sure indicated as much. The worst part was he wasn’t accompanying the students this year, which meant if anything happened…he wouldn’t be able to help. The Death Eaters were becoming more and more active; he honestly didn’t understand why Harry was risking it for some bloody sweets! He withheld the urge to slam the door closed as he left, making his way to the Great Hall, digging his fingers into his palms - stopping himself from going back and murdering his stupid idiotic charge. 

Harry watched Severus leave his own quarters, clearly mad with him but instead of chewing him out he’d actually left. Harry gulped, feeling torn, on one hand he wanted to go, to be normal and forget he had a Dark Lord to defeat. Dark Lord? He really had been spending far too much time with his dad. Putting the toast on the plate suddenly feeling queasy, he’d never outright disobeyed Severus since he’d been taken in after fourth year. What if he stopped training him and wanted nothing to do with him? No, he wouldn’t do that, Merlin what did he do? Cancel his plans with Neville to make Severus happy or go and prove nothing would happen? The Dark Lord wouldn’t attack Hogsmeade surely. No he’d go and prove him wrong, he was perfectly safe, but he’d take his invisibility cloak as back up.   
Well this wasn’t how he’d expected the morning to go, it’s the first time (other than training) that he’d spent any time with his dad since the Horcrux had been removed. Since then he had actually been sleeping a hell of a lot better, it’s as if the darkness he’d carried around was gone. Sighing tiredly, he stood up and made his way out of Severus’ quarters his stomach still rebelling he felt as though he’d betrayed Severus. When all he did was say he was going to Hogsmeade, irritated at himself, and his dad he put the invisibility cloak on and made his way out of the dungeons. Silently as possible since he had to sidestep a few Slytherins coming passed no doubt going up for breakfast. 

Once he was at the entrance hall, he removed his cloak behind a statue and placed it in his pocket which was enlarged to fit anything. Sliding out, he made his way to the Great Hall, as if he was coming from Gryffindor Common room not the dungeons. Sliding in, he saw Neville with his feet up on the seats keeping Harry a space. Grinning wryly, he walked over and poked him in the back causing him to jump. 

“Hey,” said Neville swallowing the curse he’d wanted to yell, he was no longer the shy boy he had been a few years ago. Everyone had learned that at some point in the past year, even the Slytherin’s ironically enough. Even Draco Malfoy hadn’t bothered him or cursed him; it was turning out to be an odd year admittedly. 

“You ready to go?” asked Harry, he was going to get Zar a dozen or so mice he liked them better than anything else apparently. 

“Aren’t you going to have breakfast?” asked Neville concerned he’d never seen Harry leave without eating something. 

“I’ll get something in Hogsmeade,” said Harry. “You finish yours though.” added the teen sitting down in the spot Neville had saved for him. 

“Great,” said Neville munching on his breakfast, which was healthy food, he didn’t want to put the weight back on after fighting so hard to get it off. They’d gone running today, but he’d had to finish some homework he’d completely forgotten was due today. Harry had left to go to the library. “Hey did you find the book you wanted?” 

“Nope, I’m just going to order it from Flourish and Blotts,” said Harry shaking his head. 

Neville doubted that there was a book missing from the library that Harry could possibly want. He had to admit he was curious about what Harry was up to. Unfortunately if Harry wasn’t going to tell him he’d have to guess and wonder, since he wasn’t about to follow him. He’d seen how he’d reacted to Ron following them, and he didn’t want that fury and anger directed at him, no way, no how. Maybe one day Harry would trust him enough with whatever he was up to.   
Harry stared at the food longingly, he was hungry, but his stomach rebelled against the thought of him eating. His eyes went to Severus, but he looked furious. Which didn’t help his stomach at all, and then Neville began speaking, tearing Harry’s attention from him altogether. 

“That’s the teachers getting ready to go,” said Neville, hastily eating the rest of his meal, they were still escorted by the teachers even though they were sixteen. He was relived to note that Snape wasn’t coming this time. 

Harry looked up, noting that Neville was right; Flitwick, McGonagall, Hagrid and Sprout were standing up clipboards in their hands. Standing up he made his way out of the Great hall with Neville and the rest of his classmates who were going to Hogsmeade too. 

“Something wrong? You look as though your…you don’t want to go now,” said Neville correcting himself, not wanting to say ‘your cat died’ he didn’t want to depress him further. 

“Just worried,” grumbled Harry, what if Severus was right? And they attacked? Stiffening his resolve, if it was going to happen it would with or without him there. 

“About what?” asked Neville frowning. Then again this was Harry; he always seemed worried about one thing or another. Even before they had become friends, although normally it happened in the middle to end of the year. He’d joined the dots and learned it was mostly about You-Know-Who. 

“Attacks, stuff like that,” admitted Harry. 

“I knew it!” said Neville smugly, before adding in a sympathetic tone. “It’s not just you worried Harry, everyone else is, we are at war it’s expected.” 

Harry turned back to the doors of the Great Hall, his eyebrows rising in shocked understanding. Was that the real reason Severus didn’t want him going? Was he worried about him? Was that all? Merlin he wished he knew the uncertainty made him queasy. He hoped Severus didn’t stay mad at him, turning back around waiting in line until McGonagall began moving.   
\------0 

“So where to first?” said Neville as everyone began wandering off all around Hogsmeade. 

“How about going to Honeydukes?” asked Luna, “Chocolate will help ward of the wrackspurts.”

“Yup, the invisible wrackspurts can’t have that happening,” said Harry wryly, sharing a look with Neville who just grinned sheepishly. 

“No we can’t,” said Luna seriously. 

Harry pursed his lips as to stop himself laughing, feeling much better about everything as they made their way into Honeydukes. Raiding his pocket to find the bag of money he had within it somewhere. Finding it he yanked it out, absently pushing his invisibly cloak back in as he did so. Thankfully most of the older students had opted to go to The Three Broomsticks first for a Butterbeer. So they were able to navigate around the shop without difficulties. 

“Oh look, they have my favourite back!” said Luna dreamily leaving Neville and Harry to grab a few of her favourite sweets. 

“I thought she was going to stop wearing her wand behind her ear,” said Harry watching her bemused, it wasn’t a safe place to have it in his opinion. 

“She tried,” said Neville laughing softly, “Didn’t you notice it was the first thing she did when we were duelling? Reach behind her ear to get it?” 

“Yeah I did,” said Harry nodding reluctantly. 

“She’s brilliant at duelling, she has nothing to worry about.” said Neville, Luna made him look like a novice, she was skilled and competent. She was able to conjure a Patronus and it took her less time than him! And considering he got it done within a period of Defence it was saying a lot. Her Patronus was a hare, utterly magnificent it was. She had definitely proved she was a Ravenclaw with the way she was able to master spells. 

“She is, isn’t she?” said Harry, it wasn’t a chore teaching her spells that’s for sure. In fact he’d never admit it but she was easier to teach than Neville. 

“Yeah,” said Neville, picking up a few chocolate frogs from the shelf, and then moving a long to get some sweets for his mum. He always gave them to her when he visited. She always handed him the empty wrapper back, it was as if she knew he gave her the stuff. Before moving off towards the line, waiting to buy his stuff. Harry joined him a few seconds later his hands full of stuff. He wasn’t like Harry he couldn’t eat all that and still stay thin.   
“That reminds me, maybe you’ll be able to get that book out of Dervish and Banges.” said Neville. 

“Not that important,” said Harry quickly. 

“I’d love to go to Dervish and Banges,” said Luna sneaking upon them. “I know daddy would love a new necklace.” 

“Alright then, Dervish and Banges it is,” said Harry wryly. 

Neville just grinned as he placed his sweets down and paid for them, moving to the side waiting on Harry and Luna paying for their items. It was nice being able to get out of Hogwarts for a while, sixth year was hard work, plus the help Harry was giving them. It was just really great to take a break from it all. 

“Do you think they’ve found Ollivander yet?” asked Neville, he felt sorry for the old man, despite the fact he hardly knew him. 

“I don’t think there’s going to be anything to find,” admitted Harry sadly, “I mean what could he want with a wand-maker? Other than to try and stop wizards and witches getting their wands?” 

“He might not have always been a wand-maker, I mean Fortescue didn’t just make ice cream.” said Luna solemnly. 

“I know he was brilliant at Medieval Witch-burnings. He helped me with my homework three years ago, he was really nice, kept bringing me sundaes every half an hour.” said Harry chuckling sadly as they turned right into the main road. “I still don’t see why they’d take him to be honest.” 

“There’s no rhyme or reason to You-Know-Who’s attacks.” said Neville. 

“There’s always a reason,” said Harry sombrely. 

Neville couldn’t say anything; he hasn’t been the one who’s battled the dark wizard…how many times was it now? Four in total unless he was mistaken. Opening the door to Dervish and Banges they entered the shop silently. Luna’s eyes lit up just being inside the shop, her eyes went from left to right immersed in the items the shop had to offer. 

“Daddy will love this!” exclaimed Luna holding out a pendant with shapes on it. Circular, triangle and of course a line through them. 

“That looks familiar,” said Neville eyeing it curiously.   
“It does,” said Harry slightly pale, that’s the sign he’d seen on the Gaunt ring. 

“It’s the sign of the Deathly Hallows,” Luna told them dreamily as she wandered off to pay for it. 

“Deathly Hallows?” asked Harry cocking his head to the side eyeing Neville curiously. 

“Mad as a hatter,” said Neville shaking his head. 

“You know what they are?” enquired Harry perking up. 

“Its nonsense.” replied Neville. 

“Hmm…” murmured Harry waiting on Luna coming back, hoping to get an answer from her. Whether it was nonsense or not, he wanted to know what the sign meant. He’d been meaning to look up about it, but he’d just never had the time nor come across it. 

“Finished? Let’s go get a Butterbeer,” said Neville as Luna approached them. 

“What’s the Deathly Hallows?” asked Harry as soon as she was back. 

Neville rolled his eyes as he followed them out, Harry listening intently to what she said. 

“Don’t you know the story about the Deathly Hallows Harry?” said Luna surprised. 

“No, tell me,” said Harry curiously, a story? He’d be inclined to believe Neville if the design hadn’t been on a Horcrux. 

“Well, it’s said in the legend there was three brothers, Ignotus, Cadmus and Antioch Peverell confronted Death itself and beat him…” said Luna. 

“Beat him?” asked Harry arching an ironic eyebrow at her. 

“They used magic to conjure a bridge, Death wasn’t happy that they had beaten him. So offered his congratulations and tricked them.” said Luna. 

“Okay, tricked them how?” asked Harry and what did it have to do with the sign? 

“He gave them items, items that became collectively known as the Deathly Hallows.” said Luna, “One item was given to each of the brothers, a stone of resurrection, which lets the person touching it see the dead. The second received the most powerful wand in existence, it became known as the Elder wand. The third received the cloak of invisibility, it’s said he handed it down to his son and joined death as an old friend and went with him to the next world.” 

Harry shivered, his hand automatically going to his cloak, was it possible? It seemed ludicrous but it seemed that behind each myth lay some resemblance of truth. 

“What happened to the other brothers?” asked Harry realizing they had been left out.   
“One was killed the night he got the wand after getting drunk and boasting about it. The other committed suicide when he realized he couldn’t have the one he loved in this life.” said Neville finally joining in. 

“Have either of you heard of the Peverell brothers?” asked Harry curiously. 

“Of course,” said Luna, “They are buried in Godric’s Hollow.” 

Harry closed his eyes it seemed like confirmation enough, the Potter’s had been buried along with their wives for generations in Godric’s Hollow. Who’s to say his family hadn’t originally been Peverell’s? He knew quite a bit about his family history, wait a minute he was related to Voldemort…the gaunt ring and the cloak…they were related through the Peverell’s. The so called story was real, the sign was a sign of the Deathly Hallows, and too bad it didn’t really help matters much. He had assumed it would help him discover the rest of the Horcruxes. There wasn’t really many left though, at least that they thought anyway. By their reckoning there was only about three Horcruxes left, but they had no idea where they where. 

“We’re here,” said Neville opening the door to the three broomsticks.   
“I’ll get us some drinks, Butterbeer?” questioned Neville. 

“Yes, please.” said Harry, “Just get six, avoid the queue. I need to go to the toilet; I’ll give you the money when I get back.” 

“Alright,” said Neville in agreement. 

“I’ll find us a table.” said Luna wandering off. 

Harry hastily made his way to the toilets, bursting into it despite the fact the sign said ‘out of order’ and quickly did the toilet. Sighing in relief, he flushed the toilet and zipped himself up. He froze when he heard a woman entering the toilets, had he accidentally went into the females? Oh he hoped not, he’d never hear the end of it. He shook off his silly thoughts; he had come into the mens room. He exhaled sharply when an unforgivable was cast. The voice sounded familiar, but what he heard next made his blood run cold. 

“Imperio!” 

“Use the Imperius curse on Luna Lovegood and give her this necklace, tell her to give it straight to Albus Dumbledore.” 

Harry banged the door against the toilet wall his face a mask of fury as he confronted a surprised yet paling Draco Malfoy and a blank Madam Rosmerta. 

“Obliviate!” yelled Draco aiming it at Harry, who quickly ducked down slipping his wand into his hand, he fired back with such force Draco Malfoy basted through the wall of the Three Broomsticks and out into the pub causing screaming panic to ensure. Harry not thinking straight stormed out the door and into the pub yanking the blonde back onto the floor from where he’d tried to scramble up unsuccessfully. 

Chants of ‘Fight’ ‘fight’ ‘fight’ ‘fight’ ‘fight’ filled the pub as the students crowded around watching it with morbid curiosity. 

“Fucking dickhead!” snarled Harry punching him in the face. “I should kill you where I stand!” 

“Let me go Potter!” hissed Draco utterly humiliated his wand was in that bathroom. 

“HARRY!” shouted Neville wrapping his arms around the teen and dragging him bodily off Malfoy. 

“You’re done for Malfoy!” snarled Harry trying to fight against his friend to get back at the blonde. “You can do what you like to me but nobody hurts my friends.” to his surprise Neville stiffened and Harry used the opportunity to get out of his hold and punch the boy once more, sending him to the floor again. 

“Enough Harry,” said Neville dragging him back, just as the teachers entered the fray. 

“MOVE OUT OF THE WAY!” boomed Minerva McGonagall and out of instinct they listened to her. “Potter.” she said when she caught sight of them. 

“Hagrid see to Mr. Malfoy, Potter follow me.” snapped McGonagall taking charge. 

“Get Luna back to Hogwarts, I mean it Neville don’t leave her alone.” said Harry furiously. 

Neville nodded vigorously immediately leaving Harry’s side looking for Luna; grabbing her he immediately left the Three Broomsticks. Noticing that Harry had been dragged off through the Floo, Hagrid was following her Draco Malfoy in his huge arms. For once the idiot wasn’t complaining in fact it was the most quiet he’d ever seen him. What the hell had he said to Harry to get him to be so furious? 

He noticed Flitwick investigating the scene before the doors closed. 

"What's going on?" asked Luna baffled. 

"Let's go." said Neville shaking his head hastily dragging her along Hogsmeade and back towards the castle as fast as humanly possible.


	54. Chapter 54

A New Place To Stay 

Chapter 54 

Consequences 

Severus stalked the halls his mind not really into scolding the students, his mind was cursing his son in million different ways, without much scorn to his consternation. Honestly he just wanted to put Harry over his knee and give him a red arse for wilfully disobeying him. He just had a feeling in his heart that something was going to happen. It’s partly why he kept returning to the entrance hall every hour, but as the time continued to move on, and no teacher called for aid he calmed down slightly. He’d never admit he over reacted, but when it came to Harry’s safety well, he realized he probably would always over react. It would soon be time for the students to return, relaxing marginally; he wouldn’t completely until they were all back. Why Dumbledore insisted on allowing them to go during war baffled him completely. It was like painting a large target on the small town. Even worse that he wasn’t in attendance, no the next one was what he was scheduled to attend. Minerva was a competent fighter, she would protect Harry, he knew that, or thought so anyway. She might not listen to him which was a surprise to him. He had thought the Gryffindor’s worshiped the ground she walked on. 

Flicking his wand he realized the time, nodding to himself curtly, he stalked towards the Great Hall, it was time for lunch. When he entered he noticed Albus wasn’t there, strange what was the old fool up to now? Searching for another Horcrux? He didn’t have anything planned Ministry wise, he always brought it up at Staff meetings, so Minerva was well informed so she could take over the running of the school until he returned. 

Taking his seat, he didn’t even look at the other teachers, merely began filling his plate and began to eat. Watching his younger Slytherins, who were talking animatedly with each other, something they did when none of the other students were there. The younger students liked to imitate the older ones, present a united front, possibly the prefect’s ideas being drummed into them. 

Arching an eyebrow stifling his amusement as Filch ran into the hall, and began racing up to the head table. Although any amusement he had faded fast when he noticed the squib heading straight for him. Concern began to churn in his stomach, making the food he just ate want to rebel dangerously. Despite this none of the emotion showed on his face, he turned to Filch demanding answers silently. It was ironic really that a man with no magical powers wasn’t afraid of him or intimidated. They would never be friends, but he did respect Filch’s backbone. 

“Severus, your presence is requested in the Headmaster’s office.” said Filch panting as he tried to regain his breathe. He’d run from the Great Lake to the Hall, when he’d ran into Hagrid and Minerva who told him to fetch the wizard. Seeing their faces he hadn’t grumbled about being a human owl for once, something big had gone down. 

“Why?” Severus asked nonplussed. 

“Minerva didn’t say,” replied Filch. 

“Very well,” said Severus, his robes whirling around him he swiftly left the Great Hall, exiting through the main entrance instead of the teacher’s one. It would take him longer should he take the teachers exit; inwardly he rolled his eyes as the students all stared after him curiously. Yet as always, the younger students didn’t stay curious long, merely went back to their meals. One of the few times Severus was grateful for their short attention span. 

It took everything in Severus not to run towards the headmaster’s office, but he did walk at a faster pace than usual. The students were all in the Great Hall so he didn’t have to worry much. What had happened? Why was his presence being requested? The only explain was it involved one of his Slytherins, Draco immediately came to mind but dismissed it, surely the idiot boy wouldn’t try anything stupid. 

“Blood pops,” sneered Severus as he stepped on the moving gargoyle, and waited impatiently for it to reach the top. Turning the handle he entered the room, and wanted to curse. Draco Malfoy was sitting on one of the chairs, beaten bloody yet looking unrepentant. This was going to be a long day, staring impassively at Minerva, arching an eyebrow knowing he would soon have all the details.   
"I should get goin'" muttered Hagrid, "Cannie leave all the students emselfs."   
"Of course, thank you Hagrid." said Minerva her attention wavering from Severus momentarily to speak to Hagrid.   
"Severus," murmured Hagrid nodding his head before he departed from the Headmaster's office, his large head bending down just to get out the door.   
“What happened?” asked Severus irritated, sounding as though he’d rather much be somewhere else other than here.

“That is what I am trying to find out,” said Minerva throwing Draco an irritated look. “Unfortunately Draco Malfoy won’t speak, Mr. Potter has gone to the toilet and will be back momentarily.” 

Just then the Floo network activated, Severus looked over expecting Dumbledore but found instead the small figure of Flitwick emerging. If the look on his face was anything to go by, his day was about to go into an infinite loop of becoming never ending. 

“Ah, Filius, perhaps you can shed some light on what happened here?” asked Minerva. 

“This wand was used to place the Imperius curse on Madam Rosmerta,” said Filius staring at Draco Malfoy with disgust. 

“It’s not my wand,” protested the Slytherin immediately. 

“Does Rosmerta remember what happened?” asked Minerva concerned; she got on well with the barmaid. 

“Unfortunately not,” said Filius. “If the wand isn’t yours Mr. Malfoy, I assume you have yours on hand to verify that?” 

“Yes, Professor Flitwick,” said Draco murmuring since he was in agony. Standing up he removed his wand from its holster, which thankfully hadn’t gotten broken when Potter attacked him. The second wand he had unfortunately was now in Flitwick’s possession. He’d gotten the wand from his aunt Bellatrix, when she’d been in Malfoy Manor teaching him Occlumency.  
The three teachers stared at Draco, not believing him the slightest, but without proof they could do nothing. Rosmerta didn’t remember who attacked her, and the wand wasn’t conclusive poof that Draco had used the Imperious curse. Being underage meant they couldn’t use Veritaserum on him, not without Ministry approval. They seriously doubted they would approve it, and so simply put they were stuck. 

“Ah, what is going on here?” asked Albus coming out of the Floo network surprised to see three of his teachers in the office. With one bruising worse by the minute Draco Malfoy, who seemed to shrink upon seeing him. 

Just then Harry remade his entrance into the Headmaster’s office not showing any surprise at seeing Dumbledore there. He walked over to his seat and sat down, crossing his arms across his chest, staring broodingly at the floor. He didn’t dare look up at Severus, he knew without a doubt he was disappointed and angry. 

Minerva and Filius began updating the Headmaster on what exactly had gone on and what they suspected. Severus stood next to them completely impassive, but if one knew where to look they could tell he was extremely pissed off. 

“Thank you Filius I’ll take it from here,” said Albus tiredly, Minerva and Severus would remain behind as their Head of house for the students. 

“What should I do with this?” asked Filius gesturing towards the cursed box. “I suggest setting fire to it?” 

"Good idea Filius," said Albus giving the Ravenclaw head of house permission to do whatever he wished with the cursed opal necklace. 

Staring at both students from the top of his half moon glasses, disappointment the most prominent emotion within the blue eyes. Curious enough neither boy would meet his eyes, just continued to stare at the floor, Draco squirming slightly in discomfort. Walking around his desk, he sat down in his seat, letting the silence become almost unbearable. Waiting for one of the students to break and finally say something. 

Draco’s heart pounded away as if a sledgehammer was being hammered into it, he knew they would believe Potter. He was going to be sent to Azkaban, his mother would be killed for his failure. Merlin what was he going to do? Hopefully he’d get a chance to at least warn him mum, get her away from Malfoy Manor. He didn’t think for a second Bellatrix would take pity on her own sister. She would kill anyone, she was mental, and every word that came out of her mouth was foul words and reverence at the Dark Lord. What if he told them the truth? No, he couldn’t, maybe his godfather could help. He wanted to believe that, unfortunately he was a Death Eater as well. No doubt the Dark Lord would know the second this meeting ended. 

“Mr. Potter, care to explain why you attacked Mr. Malfoy so grievously?” asked Dumbledore, aware that it would infuriate Harry, he knew the boy well enough. His anger always got the better of him, what happened to his office last year was proof of that. 

Draco looked up at Potter, his blue eyes wild and terrified, begging his school nemesis not to say anything. 

“He put the Imperious curse on Rosmerta,” said Harry calmly, “Told her to put the curse on Luna and get her to take the box to you. I lost my temper and attacked him.” ignoring the pleading eyes of the Slytherin, if it had been anyone else other than his best friend he maybe would have kept quiet. 

“Rosmerta said she doesn’t remember who cast it Mr. Potter,” said Dumbledore. 

Harry’s nostrils flared, grinding his teeth furiously when he realized what was going to happen before Dumbledore said anything. He was going to let Malfoy away with it, he couldn’t believe it, but then again when had his word meant anything to anyone? “I heard him doing it,” said Harry, his green eyes glittering furiously. 

“Without Madam Rosmerta’s word, there will not be any charges filed.” said Dumbledore staring at Harry disappointed. “For fighting I think fifty points apiece will be removed from both your houses.” 

“Albus,” said Minerva twitching slightly, her brown eyes shadowed and troubled by the Headmaster’s actions. 

“Mr. Malfoy, you will hand in your wand to your head of house, and will only be allowed it during class. You will be confined to your dorm immediately after dinner. Any breaking of these rules will result in your immediate expulsion.” said Dumbledore seriously; he wanted to save the boy, to do that he would need to keep him within Hogwarts walls. Doing what was right wasn’t always easy; no doubt this was pushing Harry further from his grasp. 

“Yes sir,” said Draco quietly, his gaze sliding to his godfather before staring at the floor again. He had to get out of here and let his mother know. Hopefully he would do that before the news reached the Dark Lord that he’d failed. 

“Both of you will be serving detention with me until the end of the year,” hissed Severus crossly, his black eyes flashing at them. “Starting right now, move.” 

Both Harry and Draco stood up and began to move out of the Headmasters’ office. 

“Wand.” said Severus coldly. 

Draco cringed but nonetheless removed his wand and reluctantly handed it to his godfather. Tail tucked proverbially under his legs he walked out. His mind whirling dangerously on how to get out of this, he didn’t even look at Potter. Not that he had been looking at him much before, his godfather had been furious with him for what he did last summer. Since then life had gone from bad to worse. 

The walk towards the Potions Classroom was extremely tense to say the least. When they did finally get there, the first words out of Severus was “Mr. Malfoy, my office. NOW!” causing Draco to jump and speed through to the office as if he was being whipped with an invisible implement. Considering how hurt he was, it was a miracle really. 

“You, Mr. Potter begin scrubbing the tables, you know where the cleaning things are.” said Severus coldly. 

“Yes sir,” said Harry not attempting to explain himself. Moving off towards the cupboard, dragging out the cloths scourers and scrubbing brushes. Taking them towards the sink and began filling it up with a tough soap that gets potion stains off things without too much difficulty. He felt awful, but he couldn’t regret going, it had probably saved Luna from Azkaban for killing Dumbledore, if the old bastard had opened it. Merlin he was furious about that, Dumbledore had let Malfoy off with using an unforgivable. 

\--------0

“Sir I’m sorry,” said Draco as soon as Severus entered the office and closed the door. 

“Enough!” hissed Severus not even wanting to listen to his Slytherin’s excuses. He dug him fingers into his palms; the urge to shake the boy was strong. The imperious curse?! What the hell was he trying to do to himself? Sixteen years old and trying to end up in Azkaban, he was throwing his life away and Severus could do nothing but watch, and it was killing him. “What the hell were you thinking you idiot boy?!” 

“I don’t know,” whispered Draco truthfully, he’d done it out of sheer desperation, whether the Dark Lord was a half blood or not, his mother was in danger. He had to figure out a way to kill Dumbledore, just because his stupid father had gotten caught at the Ministry. 

“Two unforgivable curses Draco?! Is Azkaban what you want to accomplish in your life?!” hissed Severus. 

“HE’S GOT MY MOTHER!” roared Draco standing up, panting as fury thrummed through him. There was very little Draco loved enough to protect, but his mother was one of them. “IF I DON’T DO WHAT THEY WANT THEY WILL KILL HER!” 

“Your mother is in no immediate danger Draco, she can look after herself.” said Severus grimly. 

“Bellatrix will kill her,” said Draco his throat tightening as he thought about it. “She’s just waiting on me failing and the order from the Dark Lord.” it wasn’t just her getting into his mind; he had gotten into the deranged witches mind a few times. He could barely believe his aunt was related to his mother, they may look similar but that’s where it ended. Each word out of his traitorous mouth was a relief, despite everything somewhere deep inside he must trust his godfather otherwise he wouldn’t consider this. 

“What have you been ordered to do?” asked Severus, wondering if his godson would tell him the truth. How stupid did his godson think he was? He knew what the boy had been ordered to do, and he was reaching the end of his tether in keeping him and Harry safe. 

Draco shook his head wildly, wincing when his head thumped with agony. 

“I cannot help you if you do not answer,” said Severus his eyes narrowed in frustration and growing anger. 

Draco’s bruised blue eyes met those of his godfathers; it was hard to believe a few years ago life had been so simple. He could trust his father, his godfather, life was good - his biggest worry was doing well enough to please his father in his exams. His mind drifted to the times he’d confided in his godfather over the years, he’d never said anything during those times. Not even telling his father about the time he used that spell on Potter. Could he really tell his godfather? He didn’t know what else to do; this had been his last idea. 

“He wants me to take out Albus Dumbledore.” whispered Draco defeated. 

Severus couldn’t help but notice how he’d avoided the word ‘kill’ with that little sentence or ‘murder’ it was evident Draco wasn’t going to be able to do it. Considering he had cursed others to do his dirty work, so like a Malfoy. Lucius wasn’t in the Dark Lord’s good graces, it seemed as if the Dark Lord wanted rid of them. No doubt when Draco failed, he would order Narcissa killed, Draco would be swiftly dealt with leaving Lucius a broken man but alive. He would need to keep him alive until the use of his manor was finished with then deal with him. Draco had always thought the sun rose out of his father’s backside; he wondered how he felt about him now. Considering what his ideals had reduced his family to. 

"I see," said Severus impassively. 

"Please don't tell him," whispered Draco desperately. 

"If I agree to that, I am going to need something in return from you Draco," said Severus seriously. 

"Anything," croaked Draco, thinking maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't have to do this alone. 

"Very well, send in Mr. Potter, both your detentions still stand, get cleaning." said Severus. 

"Yes sir," said Draco quietly, barely able to keep his legs moving, they were shaking in relief but as any Slytherin would, he regained his composure and walked out the office with his head held high. "Professor Snape wants you." Draco told Harry, giving the teenager a wide berth. First Granger punched him like a common hooligan, now Potter? he couldn’t fight like that, it wasn't fair. 

 

Harry glared at Malfoy as he passed; surprised that nobody had healed him yet, slipping into the office. He had been surprised when he heard Malfoy shouting, it was almost as if Severus had wanted him to overhear. While he did feel slightly sorry for him, it was washed away for targeting his friend. Although the majority of his anger was focused on Dumbledore, not even scrubbing for twenty minutes helped his mood. 

“Sit down,” said Severus flicking his wand and casting a silencing spell around the room, confirming Harry’s suspicions that he had wanted him to overhear their conversation. 

“I know what you are thinking…” started Harry. 

“Indeed?” asked Severus, “Do tell.” 

“I don’t regret going, I can’t, he targeted my best friend!” said Harry defensively. 

“Yes, he did.” agreed Severus, “There is nothing you wouldn’t do for your friends isn’t that correct?” 

Harry narrowed his eyes, “Where is this going?” asked Harry a sinking feeling in his stomach. 

“He is trying to protect his mother, while his actions are deplorable you have to remember he’s desperate.” replied Severus. 

“Fine, he’s desperate.” said Harry, still wondering what he was up to. 

“Bringing him in might save us a lot of hassle.” said Severus, “And save his life, as well as his mothers.” 

“What? You are going to let him kill Dumbledore?” scoffed Harry. 

“Of course not,” said Severus deadpanned. He wasn’t surprised his son had figured it out, after all Draco had been caught red-handed. No doubt everyone realized what Draco had been up to; no doubt Minerva was in the Headmasters office still grilling him. “I am sure between us we can come up with an idea or two on how best deal with the situation.” 

“Tell him what you want, as long as I don’t have to deal with him.” said Harry. 

“Harry,” said Severus warningly. 

“Alright, what do you want me to do?” asked Harry, unable to say no to Severus, knowing he cared deeply about Draco. It turned his stomach but he would do it. He refused to admit he was just jealous, which he was big time. The thought of sharing his dad with anyone in the only time he got with him made him feel like a two year old - temper tantrum incoming. 

“Nothing but get back into that room and clean,” said Severus. 

“This isn’t fair, it’s not my fault.” sighed Harry getting up. 

“After everything I taught you, the first thing you do is fight like a common hooligan?” snapped Severus. 

“But that’s not why you are angry, it’s because I went to Hogsmeade.” said Harry defensively. 

“I am angry, I told you not to go.” said Severus, “You defied me, and that’s that, end of discussion.” 

Harry turned away, walking towards the door, “I thought you understood,” said Harry his voice changing to sadness. 

Severus froze realizing Harry was actually upset. “Alright Harry, sit down, talk to me.” said Severus softly. Going back to the man Harry was used to dealing with in Prince Manor when he had to talk about his feelings and past. Somewhere along the lines they had stopped communicating, something he had to stop immediately. 

“I just want to be normal, to do normal things, forget I’m supposed to murder someone so everyone can live their pathetic little lives.” said Harry bitterness crawling up his throat. “Hogsmeade is that one time, just being with friends and buying things.” hell sneaking around and going just wasn’t the same as going with them and coming back. 

“You value going to Hogsmeade that much?” asked Severus surprised, he hadn’t gotten that much enjoyment out of attending the village. Perhaps that’s why Harry liked it; nodding in understanding he finally understood where Harry was coming from, and why he had gone despite his words. 

“Yes,” admitted Harry, “I’m sorry, I just…” he added but unable to finish or articulate himself. 

“I understand Harry, but you still have detention, you aren’t getting out of it.” said Severus amused. 

“Damn,” said Harry. 

“It’s a good job you didn’t take Zar with you today, he may have come out if he sensed how angry you were.” said Severus. 

Harry paled, “Yes, it is.” said Harry feeling sick. The thought of anything happening to Zar was intolerable to him. 

“Stop with the Muggle fighting Harry,” said Severus, “Otherwise we will step up the training.” which meant more time away from his friends, not something Harry would relish. 

“Well I couldn’t use the spells I know now could I? Not without everyone becoming suspicious!” replied Harry. 

“You paused long enough to think?” asked Severus doubtfully. 

“No,” admitted Harry sheepishly. 

“I thought as much, remember to come down after dinner,” said Severus, he had a few new spells to teach Harry, which was getting more and more difficult as the days went by. He wasn’t teaching him the Darkest arts, just the Dark Arts, enough to survive and win in a confrontation with the Dark Lord. 

“Yes sir,” said Harry. 

“Did you have lunch?” enquired Severus as Harry stood up heading for the door. 

“Yes,” said Harry, mostly sweets but he wasn’t about to admit that. 

“Good” said Severus, sighing tiredly as he removed the spells on the door and slumped in his seat. Things were getting complicated, despite his desires he knew letting Draco in on everything wouldn’t make it all go away. How the hell did he protect his son and godson when they were always at odds? When one was tasked in killing Albus bloody Dumbledore? A man he could barely tolerate. Mostly because of his actions against Harry, added with the Horcruxes it was a mess.


	55. Chapter 55

A New Place To Stay 

Chapter 55 

Unexpected Turn Of Events 

“Harry!” shouted Neville running over to him, his face a picture of concern; he’d been going out of his mind when he’d not seen hide or hair of him or Malfoy all afternoon. It was now time for dinner, and he’d just been making his way down to the Great Hall. Relieved beyond belief he stopped in front of him, and began firing of questions. “Are you okay? What happened? Where have you been? They haven’t expelled you have they?” 

“Keep it down,” said Harry moving himself and Neville off to one of the alcoves and placing a silencing spell up. 

“They didn’t did they?” asked Neville worried. “They only say duelling isn’t allowed…you can use it to get out of it.” what they had been doing was Muggle fighting, and technically it wasn’t a rule at Hogwarts since people didn’t tend to settle disputes with violent Muggle wrestling. 

Harry smirked wryly, “Do you seriously think Dumbledore would have me expelled?” he asked staring at Neville with a look that said ‘don’t be stupid’. 

“Well…no,” said Neville sheepishly, “But what happened? Professor Flitwick looked ready to explode when he picked up some blue box.” 

“I caught Malfoy using the imperious curse,” said Harry, his face dark and furious, as he told Neville. He wasn’t happy at all, but unfortunately not surprised. “As usual Dumbledore’s sweeping it under the fucking rug, all the bastard got was detention and restricted use of his wand.” 

“You’re joking!” choked Neville wide eyed, he’d used an unforgivable and he was getting away with it? That was just unbelievable! Didn’t Dumbledore care about the student’s safety? By the looks of things he couldn’t give two hoots no wonder Harry was furious. “What else happened?” 

“He was demanding Rosmerta to put the Imperious curse on Luna, to give Dumbledore the box Professor Flitwick found. I’m not sure exactly what it was, but it must have been bad, the professor wanted to destroy it.” said Harry darkly. “I lost it after that. It’s why I wanted you to get Luna back to school, and not to leave her alone I wasn’t sure if Malfoy was acting alone.” it looked as if he was, but Harry would never trust him as far as he could throw him. He didn’t care what Severus said, or did he was determined to stick to his guns. 

“Couldn’t Rosmerta press charges?” asked Neville sitting down on the window ledge. Staring out at the school furiously, he had to stop himself hunting Malfoy down and doing a Harry. Luna was his girlfriend; the thought of anything happening to her was intolerable. He’d lost his parents before he got to know them, he didn’t want to loose Luna too. 

“Apparently she doesn’t remember,” said Harry suspiciously. 

“Convenient, but we all know the imperious curse doesn’t cause anyone to forget what they did or do.” said Neville doubtfully. 

“I know, right?” said Harry. “I’ve got detention for fighting.” 

“That’s not fair!” cried Neville at the injustice. “They cannot do that, you didn’t break the law.” 

“Try telling that to them,” said Harry, “But it doesn’t matter; at least the teachers will be keeping a close eye on him now.”   
“He should be in Azkaban.” snapped Neville infuriated. 

Harry nodded without saying anything; truthfully he should have been in Azkaban a year ago. Unfortunately the Ministry wouldn’t have believed him. Even if he had given them the memory of what happened, they’d say he tampered with it despite the fact it was impossible to tamper with memories unless you were a very accomplished Legilimens and Occlumens. If you weren’t there would be obvious tell tale signs of tampering, but Harry had been a lunatic so surely he could have accomplished such a feat. Sometimes he hated the magical population, but he loved magic too much to ever think about abandoning it. 

“Did they even let you have lunch?” asked Neville. 

“No,” said Harry shaking his head, his stomach grumbling conveniently. 

“Come on then, let’s get some dinner,” said Neville, walking out of the silencing bubble, noticing Granger watching them with a sadness lingering in her eye. It had only taken her two years to regret being a teacher’s pet and sticking up for teachers over her friends. She should have known better, she had been really bad for it when they were in first year. Thankfully Harry and Ron had settled her down a bit, but she was still irritating. A smile settled on his face, remembering the look on her face when he successfully cast a Patronus spell. He’d never forget it as long as he lived, Luna’s either, she’d been so proud of him, and he craved it since until the end of the year he hadn’t ever been given approval. His grandmother was so proud of him for his actions during the whole Ministry debacle. 

“Good idea,” said Harry, he could eat a scabby horse right now. Flicking his wand he took down the silencing spell and made his way into the Great Hall with Neville at his side. He noticed Hermione but didn’t bother about her. “Come on.” he said, grabbing Neville’s arm, he was standing there just staring at Malfoy with a glare worthy of his dad, speaking of his dad he was watching them with a raised eyebrow. Which let Harry know he was impressed, but why, he wasn’t sure…maybe Neville’s glare. He was proud himself, Neville was coming into his own, and it definitely had been a long time coming. 

Harry was just about to sit down, when he noticed Cho Chang messing with Luna again. Narrowing his eyes, his nostrils twitched in irritation. He’d already warned them all, yet they were continuing to make her life a misery? Why did Luna take it? She could lay all their shit bare, when another pea was flung at her he made his way over magic crackling in the air. 

“Hey Harry!” beamed Cho as he neared the table, everyone else seemed to process a brain, and moved away slightly from Cho and Luna. Cho was sitting opposite Luna, finally stopping in her aid to use all her peas as target practice on the blonde girl. Luna simply just removed it from her hair and placed it on the table. 

“What did I say the last time you bothered Luna?” growled Harry, his green eyes flashing in rage.   
The smile slid of Cho’s face, as she realized what everyone else had - that he was well and truly pissed off. Swallowing nervously, looking around as if begging for someone’s help. But none of the Ravenclaw’s would meet her eyes; they found their meals suddenly very interesting. Although none of them put any food in their mouth. 

“It was just some fun,” said Cho placating the furious wizard, her mind drifting to what he’d done to Malfoy…the evidence was still there too.

“Was it fun when I poured the bowl all over your head last year?” asked Harry feigning sweetness, “Shall I have some more…fun with you?” he enquired his voice trailing of dangerously. 

“Harry its fine,” said Luna quietly, at least they were no longer taking and hiding her things, she’d been able to pack up quickly last year, and she had a feeling it would be the same this time. She was used to everyone picking on her, she knew she was odd to them all, but didn’t care about it enough to change. 

“You are supposed to be Ravenclaws,” sneered Harry staring around at them all in scorn ignoring Luna’s statement. “What was it the hat said? A ready mind, with wit and a will to learn and wisdom? I cannot see it, you are idiots. You’re supposed to look after your own, no matter what they are like. You disgust me; this will be your last warning, all of you…” 

“Harry its okay.” said Luna trying to settle Harry, he was obviously still angry from earlier. 

“Tease her, touch her, bully her, take away her things then you will deal with me. Is that understood? And trust me what I did to Malfoy will be child’s play when I deal with you.” snarled Harry, once again ignoring Luna’s attempt to calm him down. 

“DO. YOU. UNDERSTAND?” enunciated Harry slowly; lowering his face to Cho’s causing the girl to flinch. 

“Yes,” she squeaked backing away from him, shuddering his magic was strong she’d never felt anything like it before in her life. She didn’t understand why Luna wasn’t backing away herself, surely she could feel it? 

“Not just Harry, I will bring the Longbottom name down on anyone who tries.” said Neville adding his own thoughts. 

“Come on Luna,” said Harry, grabbing her underarm and hoisting her from her seat, guiding her towards the Gryffindor table. Sitting her down in the middle, sitting her in the middle of him and Neville. It was clear both of them would bring hell down on anyone who bothered Luna. 

“You shouldn’t have,” said Luna shaking her head, “She would have stopped, Cho gets bored easily.” 

“If anyone bothers you, tell me, I mean it Luna.” said Harry, he’d gone through years of Harry hunting with nobody to help him. He hated bullies with every iota of his being, it was coming out more these days since he’d stopped playing the hero. 

“Alright,” said Luna smiling sweetly at Harry as she began plating up another load of food, since she hadn’t eaten anything at the Ravenclaw table. “What happened earlier?” she asked after swallowing a piece of juicy meat, it was lovely. 

“I’ll tell you later,” said Neville, he planned on going to the library; he wanted to find out whether the tattoo was actually a tattoo. He knew Harry wasn’t being truthful, tattoo’s moved yes, but they didn’t disappear out of the area it was drawn on completely. He’d seen Harry without his tattoo earlier, which had made him doubly curious.   
“Okay,” said Luna as the three dug into a hearty filling dinner, and consumed a sweet dessert (strawberry tart for the boys and Luna had some éclairs) afterwards. They talked among themselves, mostly about when they would next get together and learn more spells. Which lead to their current very important discussion.

“I love the room of requirements,” said Neville wistfully, it gave him all the books he needed when he was searching for something. It was just too bad they couldn’t take the books out of the room, but it didn’t matter much. 

“Do you want to know something funny?” she said, “I tried to get into the room, but I only ended up somewhere completely different. It had millions of things, chairs, benches, all different house colours, cutlery, busts, statues old towels even items that students probably brought to Hogwarts. I found a very old magazine; it was an early version of the Witch weekly. I even found my old shoe from three years ago!” exclaimed Luna. “It’s no good to me now but I took it anyway. Oh yes, I bumped into a bust and this old jewellery box fell on me, it was a tiara, I was tempted to take it, but there was something about it, it feels tainted.” 

“A tiara?” said Neville amused, “Nobody uses tiara’s anymore.” 

“Not even for weddings?” asked Harry arching an eyebrow. 

“Well some do, mostly Muggle borns,” said Neville conceding the point. 

“It looked like Rowena Ravenclaw’s diadem.” said Luna offhandedly. “Of course it’s silly; it’s been missing since the founder times.” 

Harry froze, not so eager to dismiss the ‘tiara’ as Luna was, but only because they’d found one item already relating to the founders that was a Horcrux. Could it be that simple? Had one of the Horcruxes just happened to fall into his lap? In his opinion he’d rather play it safe than sorry, if it wasn’t at least it was ruled out. 

“Um…Luna…did you say you found the room where the Room of requirements is?” asked Harry his voice slightly off. 

Luna gazed at Harry curiously, sensing the importance she spoke to him frankly. “Yes,” she admitted. 

“What were you thinking about?” asked Harry his heart beating through the roof; they might not even be able to get back in the room again. 

“My lost shoe,” said Luna smiling her sweet smile. 

“Alright, let’s go.” said Harry getting up and picking his last piece of tart from his plate and eating it. 

“Don’t you have detention?” asked Neville standing up as well. 

“It can wait, this is more important.” said Harry hastily as the three of them quickly made their way out of the Great Hall. As he did he gave his dad what he hoped was a pointed look that something was up. He didn’t dare stare long with Dumbledore there, but all he could do was hope he got it. 

“Alright,” said Luna running to catch up with them. 

\-----0

“I hope we don’t lose a lot points,” said Neville as Luna paced back and forth. "You know what Snape's like, he'd leave the jar empty." of course referring to the glass jar with what looked like rubies, sapphires, emeralds and yellow quartz falling into them, every time a student gained points and or removed when they lost them.   
Harry’s lips drew in, stopping himself from laughing, “Actually he could have today, but he didn’t. Well more than the fifty Dumbledore has already removed from both of us.” replied Harry thoughtfully. 

“We haven’t lost points, didn’t you see the jar? It’s the same as it was last night,” said Neville blankly. 

“Huh, weird,” said Harry, had Professor McGonagall given him the points back? She had protested against the Headmaster’s decision on something. It wasn’t in his dad’s character to do that; he’d have been amused by the loss of points. Probably because for once it wasn’t him taking such a large amount of points. Dumbledore usually added points to Gryffindor’s to make them win. 

“I know,” said Neville. “Look, she’s done it…is it the right room Luna?” he asked thoughtfully. 

“Yes, come look,” said Luna, her voice strong and firm from even inside the room. The door was open otherwise it would have disappeared, and they wouldn’t have been able to get in. 

Harry and Neville ran in, and the door closed behind them as Luna let it go. Both of them looked around in awe, it looked like a huge junk shop, centuries of stuff must have been put in here, there was books, broken quills, sweets, even old Gryffindor bedding. 

“It’s over there, on the floor.” said Luna gesturing towards the tiara. The three of them walked over to it, still looking around the room in awe. 

“I see what you mean Luna,” said Harry feeling the darkness in it and he hadn’t even touched it yet. Odd, was he more sensitive to the Dark Lord’s soul pieces because he used to be one and could sense it? It couldn’t be denied he was more aware of them. He used the spell Severus had taught him to detect spells on objects, but found nothing on it, just the Horcrux obviously. 

“Gives you the heebie jeebies doesn’t it?” admitted Luna, such a beautiful item it was too, sullied by some sort of Dark magic. 

“I can’t feel anything,” said Neville frowning, as he looked between both of them confused. He wasn’t calling them liars, far from it, because he knew if they said they could feel it - then they could. He just didn’t understand why he couldn’t feel it when they could. 

“Maybe you just aren’t sensitive to dark magic, Nev.” said Harry, “Nothing to be ashamed off. In fact you are sensitive to earth magic, can’t have both.” 

“Maybe we should give this to Professor Dumbledore, it is a Hogwarts heirloom. I’ve been to Dumbledore’s office, the sword is still there, and it’s a beautifully crafted. The sorting hat had been about to tell me the story behind it when Dumbledore interrupted us.” said Neville. 

“No,” said Harry immediately his voice intense, there was no way he was giving this to Dumbledore.   
Luna turned to stare at Harry, she knew Dumbledore and Harry hadn’t been getting on…but his voice…it sounded like he actually hated him. She shrewdly wondered what had happened to cause it, she wanted to ask, but right now wasn’t the time. Harry was staring at it intently, there was something they were missing, and whatever it was Harry felt strongly about it. 

“Okay, Harry. What is going on?” asked Neville. 

“Nothing,” said Harry simply, brushing it off as he picked up the box and shrank it. 

“No you don’t,” said Neville, standing in front of him, stopping Harry from leaving the room. “I’ve let you brush me off all year; you’re entitled to your own secrets. Harry…I just want to know what the hell is going on! You’re different, I thought maybe you’d found someone and were secretly dating…but its not that is it?” 

“No,” said Harry grinning half heartedly at the thought.   
“Well? Come on Harry! Surely you trust us? What do we need to do?” asked Neville exasperated the longer they stayed standing there mutinously. 

“It’s not as simple as that,” groaned Harry, irritated. “Not telling you is for your own safety! Someone could just read your mind and glean the information from you.” 

Neville laughed, “Harry, purebloods are trained in closing their mind from the age of five to fifteen. Even my Gran taught me it, it starts of with meditation, and I could close my mind before coming to Hogwarts.” 

“Nobody else can do it,” said Harry confused. 

“Not many no, but my Gran is…set in her ways, she was taught it and she expected my father and obviously me to learn it in turn.” explained Neville. “It’s a dying art, since most people cannot perform Legilimency anymore anyway."

“My mother started helping me,” said Luna her smile bittersweet. “Of course daddy took over when she went to heaven with the angels.” 

“Some only begin it when their child is seventeen, or extremely early if they have family secrets that need kept.” said Neville.   
Harry’s mind travelled back to the day he caught the look irritation on Dumbledore’s face. It couldn’t be that surely? Was Dumbledore put out because he couldn’t get a glimpse of his friend’s minds? Could he really trust them? No, no he couldn’t, not about everything; he couldn’t risk his dad’s life like that. So perhaps a version of it might be best. 

“If you want answers…I want an oath that you will never speak, write, indicate, sign or in any kind of way tell anyone or anything what I say tonight.” said Harry seriously. “No, it’s not because of you guys, trust me it’s not something people can find out about. This will stop you telling anyone accidentally.” 

“How about a Vow from both of us?” asked Neville, staring Harry in the eye; sombrely he would do whatever Harry needed. Neville was relieved it had nothing to do with him; it would have hurt him greatly if Harry hadn’t trusted him.   
"Alright," said Harry nodding firmly in agreement.   
"You know what it is?" asked Neville wryly, he hadn't known what an oath was a few years ago. Even Ron had known and they'd quickly explained to Harry what it was. Oaths and vows both required magic, but the vow didn’t just take your magic from you - it took your life.   
"Course I do," chuckled Harry drolly.   
Both Neville and Luna took the Vow with Harry, each standing in as the witness and binder of each others Vow. The first was a promise never tell another soul about what they were discussing. Considering 'ghosts' were souls and Dark Creatures had souls it had pretty much everything and everyone covered. To only ever discuss it with Harry if and when it was brought up again. They also swore to help him in any way he needed, despite Harry's heavy protests on that front. Once the Vow's were sworn, the magical fiery links disappeared into their skin, holding them to their word. If anyone had seen Harry's magical core, they would have seen two magical strands change colour to that usually reserved for family bright gold/yellow, mostly siblings. Admittedly not much had changed in regard to Neville's strand, but it had gotten stronger and thicker. The strand also had a slight whirling orange to it.   
"Bloody hell, they didn't joke when they said it took a lot out of you." said Neville wiping his sweaty brow with his cloak.   
"I agree," said Luna but she looked as cool as cucumber, which made Harry suppress his smirk.   
"Alright, spill it. What's up with that Tiara? And you and Dumbledore?" asked Neville sitting down on the green leather couch nearby. He knew the room didn't give you the items you required. It was obvious to him that the room wasn't just a singular room, but one with many uses.   
"Dumbledore?" asked Harry surprised, "What makes you think anything's wrong?"   
"No, you've been going to his office, more than usual that is," said Neville.   
"Ah," said Harry nodding of course, he hadn't thought of that bothering anyone. At least it tied in with everything he was going to tell them.   
"So?" asked Neville, as Harry and Luna both joined him on the large leather couch, both of them dying with curiosity.   
“Alright, to start off, Dumbledore came to get me during the middle of the summer. He dangled me in front of Slughorn so the guy would come back to teach at Hogwarts. It was the icing on the cake for me, he put me with the Dursley’s not wanting me to grow up with the fame, yet using it for his own ends.” sneered Harry, not only in front of teachers, but the Ministry and to get Order members. To make matters worse, he just constantly decided his life for him, where he went for the summer and things like that. No he was furious with Dumbledore and that would never change. 

“I had wondered why he came back,” admitted Neville, it was just too bad he hadn’t taken Potions, from what he heard the Professor wasn’t as bad as Snape. It wasn’t really just Snape, even during the tests he’d been a bundle of nerves. He just didn’t do well under tense situations, and the thought of a potion blowing up on him was nerve-wracking. 

“What does Slughorn have to do with the diadem, if that’s what it is.” said Luna. “There is someone who will know for sure. The Ravenclaw ghost, she’s Helena Ravenclaw, the daughter of Rowena Ravenclaw.” 

“Really?” asked Harry surprised. 

“Yes, she’s very kind,” said Luna wistfully. 

“When we were finished with Slughorn, Dumbledore wanted me to come to his office for training.” said Harry. 

“So that’s how you are so good?” asked Neville. 

“No, it wasn’t that kind of training,” replied Harry shaking his head. “He’s showing me memories of Tom Riddle, which is the Dark Lord Voldemort’s real name.” 

“It’s odd to think that monster has a normal name like that,” said Neville bitterly. 

“Riddle? He’s either Muggle born or a half blood.” mused Luna understandably shocked by that piece of information given all the pureblood crap he spouted. 

“No!” cried Neville goggling at them unable to comprehend their words.   
“Yeah, his father is a Muggle, his mother was from the Gaunt line, which is directly descendant from Salazar Slytherin.” said Harry in explanation. 

“If they knew they wouldn’t still follow him! I mean they are all pureblood fanatics,” exclaimed Neville. 

“Actually not all of them are purebloods,” said Harry thoughtfully, “Most of them are I agree, but he does take a few half bloods.” his mind on Severus, who was pretty much the same as Voldemort - a half blood. Both had mothers from well known pureblood lines, and if his research was right the Prince line was actually a direct descendant from the Ravenclaw line. The goblin made dagger was a give away, so far he’d found only a few people were given goblin made materials, Godric Gryffindor was one, the design was similar on the Prince dagger he’d looked at, too similar which made him think that it had been made around the same time. 

“I think it’s too late for them, whether they wanted out or not they couldn’t. The evil things they’ve done will never be accepted, so they will have to put up with him and hope he wins to remain free.” said Luna as always extremely perceptive. 

“It’s not always too late,” disagreed Harry quietly, his dad had come back from the Dark side, putting himself at Dumbledore’s mercy took courage he’d never understand. “And it’s not always their decision, there’s more ways than just putting someone under the imperious curse to get them to do your bidding.” 

“Nothing would get me to join that evil bastard.” said Neville vehemently. 

“No? How about them kidnapping Luna to force you into it? Or even threatening her life? Would that not get you even remotely considering it?” asked Harry. 

Neville’s face spasmed in pain, the thought of it alone was terrifying. “Point well made.” Neville admitted.   
“We’ve gotten off topic haven’t we?” said Harry wryly. “The tiara or Diadem is a Horcrux.” he didn’t really want to have to tell them what they were. He’d been utterly horrified himself when he figured it out, although mostly because he knew he was one. 

Blank stares met his pronouncement. 

“That is what stopped Voldemort from dying, Horcruxes are vessels hosting a piece of someone’s soul…in this case Voldemort’s. To destroy him, we need to destroy the Horcruxes then him, it will make him mortal.” said Harry. Giving them the run down without the gory details. 

“He split his soul?” said Luna aghast. 

“Yes,” said Harry nodding his head firmly, surprised at how well they were taking it. 

“How?” asked Neville. 

“Trust me, you don’t want to know, if I could I would rather not know myself.” replied Harry solemnly. 

“Fair enough,” conceded Neville. 

“Now I have to go,” said Harry standing up. 

“Wait a minute, if you don’t want to give it to Dumbledore, does that mean you are destroying it by yourself? Why don’t you want him to know?” asked Neville baffled. 

“He knows about their existence yes, but I’m the one destroying them. He’s controlled my entire life, well let him see things going my way for a change.” Harry partly lied, he wasn’t destroying them alone. Under no circumstances was he telling them about Severus. When Voldemort was gone maybe then, but until that time came he had to keep him safe. He’d never forgive himself if anything happened to his dad because of him. "I'll see you guy’s later." he added before leaving the room hastily making his way to the dungeons.   
\----0   
“You’re late.” stated Severus glaring at his son; he did not tolerate impudence, least of all from Harry. He stared at him, his arms crossed over his chest, silently demanding an explanation from him. It wasn’t just a few minutes either; he had been waiting on Harry for over twenty minutes. 

“Never mind that,” said Harry coming into the room closing the door with a bang behind him, coming up to the desk. 

“Excuse me?” asked Severus unimpressed. 

Harry dug into his cloak and brought out the shrunk box; flicking his wand over it he opened it and let Severus see it for himself. “Look.” 

Severus’ face changed quickly when he realized why Harry had been late; removing his wand from its holster he cast the spell and found nothing on it. It must have been one of the earlier Horcruxes otherwise there would have been something imbued in it, other than the soul piece of course. “Where did you find this?” asked Severus sounding slightly hoarse, he already suspected Hogwarts, but didn’t want to believe one had been under their nose the entire time. This admittedly made it a good place to put it.   
“A room inside the room of requirements, it was full of stuff, like old benches, tables, chairs, bedding and other things students left over the years.” said Harry, “Luna mentioned seeing this, and how it felt tainted, considering we already found one of the founders items…I suspected it might be one. Better safe than sorry, I tried to tell you when I was leaving…” 

“Let’s go,” said Severus swiftly, standing up he grabbed the box. Robes billowing behind him he left his office and both of them made their way towards Severus’ quarters. Which didn’t take long at all, both of them unconsciously relaxed being there. 

“Are we still training today?” asked Harry sitting himself down, watching Severus disappear into his personal lab. 

“Yes,” said Severus, “It’s important to learn everything you can Harry, it may be the difference between winning and loosing.” 

“I know.” said Harry. 

Severus opened a drawer and took it completely out, placing it on the empty bench and dug into his little secret compartment. His hand grabbed around until his fingers latched onto the item. Withdrawing it in triumph, the Basilisk fang was bigger than his palm. He shuddered remembering his nightmares and the day in the pensive. Harry had been bitten by a fang just like it. He’d come so close to dying, if it hadn’t been for Fawkes, he would have been mourning Lily and her son. He shuddered once more, before forcefully closing his mind; he didn’t want to dwell on what ifs and buts. Harry was alive, and he needed to train Harry to keep him safe, to keep him alive when the inevitable confrontation happened. Another Horcrux that had been unexpected, but not entirely unwelcome. 

“What are you up to?” asked Severus curiously, he hadn’t seen those journals lying around in quite a while. 

“Looking through the book, I’m trying to find the one with the Horcrux mentions in it,” explained Harry, flipping through it, knowing the one he was looking for was dotted, in a list and evenly spaced out on the left side of the paper. His lip puckered as he tried to find it, he knew it was in this book, he was sure of it. "Ahah!" he cried when he finally spotted it. It hadn't been updated in forever.   
Horcruxes  
Diary  
Slytherin locket  
Hufflepuff cup  
The Gaunt Ring  
Nagini  
Me  
Possible's  
Ravenclaw's Diadem?  
Anything of the founders.   
Harry ripped the page out, luckily nothing was on the other side, spreading it out he began writing a new list. This time he didn’t add any ‘possible’s’ just re-wrote the list at the back of his red journal. If they had destroyed them, then he drew a line under them. Not that he would forget they were destroyed by any means, it was just to keep track. What really got to him was how many of the ideas they’d came up with had panned out and been true. He hadn’t really expected it if he was honest, they’d only been suggestions, but luck was on his side and he wasn’t ungrateful for it.   
Horcruxes  
Diary  
Slytherin locket  
Hufflepuff cup  
The Gaunt Ring  
Nagini  
Me  
Ravenclaw's Diadem  
He crossed out the Diadem knowing it would soon be dealt with. That left them with only two more to get, that’s if they were right about the amount he’d created for himself. “That just leaves two possible that we’ve thought off, the cup and Nagini, both are going to be difficult to get. We’ve searched every possible location…any ideas?” asked Harry. 

“I must admit I am stumped,” admitted Severus flicking his wand silencing the room, moving everything out of the way. Once he had the area cleared, he placed the Horcrux in the middle of his living room. He stared at it feeling slightly regretful. This was a piece of history; it was like destroying a part of Hogwarts, such as the sorting hat. It didn’t last long, he had to destroy it, the alternative was much worse than destroying a piece of history. Unless of course you wanted to be history which is what would happen if the Dark Lord won, everything would be history not just wizards. Taking a deep breath he closed his eyes and plunged the fang into the priceless diadem. The screeching began almost immediately, almost blowing Severus off his feet. The piece of soul fought for its survival, but as always it was useless, it was hopeless in the face of basilisk venom as everything always was. 

“Would the potion I took not have destroyed the soul without damaging the diadem?” asked Harry from where he sat, his head cocked to the side. Closing the journal, it was no longer useful now; he had nothing about the cup or Nagini. If it was possible it would be easier to kill Nagini than it would to find the cup. 

Severus stiffened, arching an eyebrow thoughtfully, it very well may have, still it didn’t matter now. Plucking the useless chunk of metal from the ground he wandered through to his bedroom. Then placed it in a secret compartment with all the other damaged Horcruxes. Closing it again he replaced all the spells on them, he wasn’t quite sure why he was keeping them he just did. 

“You ready?” asked Severus, removing his teaching robes, under them was a pair of black slacks and a long sleeved undershirt. How he had all that on and still managed to look skinny as hell Harry didn’t know. It wasn’t because he was underweight, Severus was strong, and he kept himself in shape. Severus placed the robes on the couch, as he did a few stretches to warm himself up.   
“Yeah,” agreed Harry standing up, removing his cloak and shoes. They then wandered through to the spare room they used for their duelling. It was as safe as they could get it if they ended up flying to the floor or on walls. Cushioning charms prevented any serious injuries, but it still winds you terribly though. 

Standing facing each other, they bowed before taking three steps back, and then the duel began in earnest. The only rules they had were no Unforgivables obviously and nothing without a counter curse. Spells flung back and forth for hours, as they each tried to defeat the other. Only stopping once for Harry to remove his jumper, as the duelling made him overly warm. Severus having taught Harry everything he knew for two years, it wasn’t surprising that it was difficult to bring Harry down. They each knew the others moves, so they could anticipate them in time. 

“Effrego!” yelled Severus, and Harry raised his shield, but he was exhausting so the spell broke straight through hitting Harry. Harry fell to the floor, panting so badly it echoed around the room. His head was plastered with sweat, as well as this t-shirt being drenched in it too. 

“Work through the pain,” said Severus coming forward, “Get back up!” 

Harry obtrusively waited until Severus was close enough before twisting his body around, causing Severus to fall to the ground. Cursing when his leg was crushed by Severus, he pulled himself out and stood up, his wand already in his hand. 

“Expelliarmus!” said Harry, catching the wand in his left hand, keeping his wand steady knowing it wasn’t over. 

Severus swiftly grabbed the wand on his calf before standing back up, still managing to look graceful while doing it. “Good, well done. Do not presume the Dark Lord will get this close to you.” said Severus, with that the duel was back on again, Severus fired off the next spell without warning. Back and forth they went, ducking, shielding, returning spells back and forth literally exhausted but continuing on.   
Harry continued to fire off spells, despite the fact one of his bones was broken where the Effrego spell had caught him in the arm. Thankfully it was his left and not this right otherwise he would have had to switch. The motions for the spells were different in the left hand than the right, which made it awkward to do it. Not different really, it just seemed so since it wasn’t his wand hand. 

Harry ducked a barrage of spells, falling on his back side, aiming his wand at Severus he non-verbally cast three ‘Expelliarmus’ spells, he couldn’t care less if his dad hated him using it, he wanted to end the duel, although if he was honest he didn’t think it would hit its mark. To his utter astonishment Severus’ wand was flung from his hand by the third spell. He had successfully disarmed him twice in the duel, with that he slumped onto the floor fully, panting in exhaustion and pain. 

“Well done,” said Severus proudly, retrieving both wands, “Are you hurt?” 

“Broken bone,” rasped Harry, groaning as he sat up, Merlin he didn’t think he’d be able to move from this spot let alone get to Gryffindor common room.

“Your arm?” asked Severus, he had assumed the spell had missed him, evidently that wasn’t the case. 

“Yes,” winced Harry, shivering at the cold and wet, putting his wand on the floor, he removed the soiled t-shirt. His arm was red and swollen where it had been broken, with two spells by Severus it was mended and numb. Bunching up his t-shirt he wiped his forehead, neck and back. 

“SEVERUS WHAT ON EARTH IS GOING ON?” asked Minerva her eyes wide, as she observed both her colleague and student. Unable to believe her eyes, her blue eyes glared at Severus under the very wrong assumption that Severus was abusing Harry. After all he was in a teachers quarters after hours, clad only a pair of trousers with Severus hovering over him. 

“Oh shit,” said Harry staring at Minerva in dread. 

Severus closed his eyes before turning to stare at her his face impassive, despite the thoughts going through his mind. Just how did he get himself out of this one? He kept a tight grip of his wand, as he saw just how furious the witch was. 

Then all hell broke loose.


	56. Chapter 56

A New Place To Stay  
Chapter 56  
Harry Lets Loose His Anger  
Harry jumped to his feet, knocking Severus and himself away from the oncoming spell that had left Minerva's wand. She had done so non-verbally which made it difficult to decipher which spell it was. As he landed he realised he had a good idea it was either a stunning spell or binding one, since those were the two with that colour. It was one of the first few spells he'd learned while being taught non-verbal spell casting with a man he considered a father. He was furious with her, how dare she? Why couldn’t she for once in her life actually listen to him? Every time she’d ignored him flashed before his eyes infuriating him further. He was so sick and tired of being ignored until something grave happened or out right endangering. Did he ever hear a sorry? No, not even a single bloody word from her despite the fact her ignoring him had led to the events.   
"Stop it!" snapped Harry irritated at the fact she was once again jumping to conclusions. How many times had he wished she would help him? Now she feigned concern when he didn’t want her to? Now that he had someone, well no more. He was going to put a stop to it, all the rage he’d held in all these years were bubbling dangerous close to the surface.   
"Come here Potter," said McGonagall fiercely. Her eyes narrowed in anger at both of them, she could barely believe her own eyes.   
"No!" replied Harry defiantly his chin jutting out, green eyes flashing in fury that was close to erupting.  
"How could you Severus?" hissed McGonagall furiously as the Potions Master got back to his feet.   
Severus stared at her impassively, not about to react to her comments. He'd been about to cast a shielding charm when Harry barrelled into his chest. Which by the way was now aching something fierce, Harry wasn’t the skinny boy he had been at the end of his fourth year. He grabbed his wand, still watching her, he had a feeling the only reason she wasn’t attacking right now was because Harry was in front of him. Small part of Severus was warmed by Harry’s defence of him, but another larger part was slightly embarrassed, he didn’t need Harry to shield him, especially not from Minerva.   
"Minerva it is not what it looks like," explained Severus a look of disgust on his face. To be accused of such a thing turned his stomach, he thought of Harry as a son for Merlin’s sake! The thought along gave him the creeps, he wasn’t a paedophile. Harry was barely sixteen years old, he was old enough to be his father.   
"I have eyes Severus!" snapped the woman evidently not going to listen to them. "Now we are going to Dumbledore’s office or I'm calling the Auror's." She added insistently.  
“Will you for once in your life listen to me!” shrieked Harry his face red with rage. “I’ve put up with you ignoring me for the past six years unless it suits you! You aren’t bloody fit to be someone’s head of house! You treat us life three year olds and dismiss every god damn thing we have to say! Every time I’ve went to you for help you just goddamned dismissed me as if I was a bug under your shoe! Never once in my entire Hogwarts education have you listened and I’ve had enough! I didn't even get an 'I'm SORRY' from you when you were proven WRONG! I’m beginning to think you are in it along with Dumbledore to make my life hell! I wish I didn’t argue with the hat and make it put me in Gryffindor at least if I hadn’t I’d have had someone who actually LISTENED TO ME even if it was SLYTHERIN!” Harry was panting by the end, breathing heavily having shouted the entire thing without taking a breath. He was utterly furious with her, not even shouting this had helped him the slightest. 

Severus stepped back; the magic rolling of Harry was extremely violent to say the least. If he attempted to touch him now, all that would accomplish was him being thrown against a wall. Minerva for all intents and purposes looked stunned; she was staring at Harry as if she’d never seen him before. The Slytherin in him took advantage of the situation, perhaps it would help get Minerva on side. Then again it may blow up in his face, but he wasn’t a Slytherin for nothing, he took chances. “She may well be, if I remember correctly Minerva always insisted the Dursley’s were the wrong sort of Muggles for months after you were placed on their doorstep.” said Severus watching Minerva closely.   
“Excuse me?” asked Minerva baffled, her mind momentarily off the accusations Harry had hurtled at her. What on earth was that supposed to mean? In it with Dumbledore? In what exactly? The way Harry had screamed it made it seem something offensive and illegal. She was at a loss, what could she have to do with something Albus had done? And what was this about the Dursley’s? And being in on that? “Could you explain what exactly I’m being accused off before passing judgement?” 

“Same could be said for you Professor,” muttered Harry childishly, “You walked into a room and assumed you knew everything.” he knew what she was thinking, and the fact she wasn’t even pausing to get answers had indeed enraged him. 

“Put some clothes on Mr. Potter,” said Minerva not wanting to see any of her students in any state of undress, it was highly unprofessional. Calming down, perhaps she had overreacted a little bit, but students weren’t allowed in professor’s quarters, possibly for that very reason, to prevent misunderstandings. 

Harry rolled his eyes, walking through to the spare bedroom and dug through some of the clothes there and pulled out a t-shirt and sweater, he was freezing cold. In fact he wouldn’t have minded a shower; the sweat still clung to him even if it was dry. Black t-shirt and a green jumper still fitted him surprisingly, despite all the growing he’d been doing. Probably had to do with the potions he’d been taking, true to Severus’ words it had made him taller, he was almost taller than Weasley now. 

“You have clothes down here?” stated Minerva her eye twitching, what was going on? She did not like this one bit. 

Harry just stared at her blankly, just because the majority of his anger had been expressed didn’t make it alright. 

“Coffee, Minerva? I’m afraid this conversation will be a long one,” asked Severus locking his front door non-verbally. She wasn’t going to get out of here unless she’d sworn a vow/oath or been Obliviated. He wasn’t going to put them at risk now; he still didn’t know how the hell she’d gotten in. Or why she’d come down here in the first place. 

“It seems I have no choice,” said Minerva, removing herself from the room and taking a seat in the living room. Now that she was looking properly she could see sixth year books strewn all over the place. Harry’s school bag was at the side of the couch and his cloak hanging on the hook at the door. This was obviously a regular occurrence, how could she have missed this? How long had it been going on?   
“Dobby?” called Severus sharply. 

“Yes sir?” asked the house elf trembling, very much aware that McGonagall was here and acting the part. When he saw approval in those dark eyes, he knew he had been right to do it. He almost beamed at his Master Severus but refrained with a great deal of difficulty. 

“Bring coffee and a few desserts, and a pitcher of orange juice with a cup.” said Severus. 

“Yes sir, Dobby will be doing that right away,” said Dobby bowing low before he disappeared from the room. 

Harry slumped onto his chair, before sitting up abruptly, moving his arm he scooped up his journal and closing it with a snap. He didn’t want her seeing that, he didn’t care what was revealed to her, it’s obvious she wasn’t going to be told everything anyway. Judging by the way Dobby and Severus had been reacting, he knew it wasn’t normal behaviour for either of them. He couldn’t wait until Dobby returned, he could drink the entire pitcher, and he was exhausted. All the shouting earlier had hurt his throat too. 

“Before we begin, care to explain why you came uninvited to my quarters?” asked Severus conveying his unhappiness with that action. 

“I did not approve of Albus’ decision; I retracted any detention Harry received as well as the points. I was coming to inform you of that, so Harry didn’t have to take any detentions.” said Minerva firmly. 

“Didn’t care enough to stop Umbridge did you?” added Harry bitterly. 

Minerva pursed her lips, the urge to remove points was nearly overwhelming, and unfortunately it seemed as if this discussion was going to be filled with them. So she managed to control herself, and answer, “Umbridge had much more power over the school than we could cope with.” she said calmly. 

“If you had just listened or been more open with your students you’d have had the evidence to get rid of her the first week into the school year.” said Severus bluntly.   
“What?” said Minerva her voice coated with disbelief. Her heart jerked at that, was she really that bad at her job that her students felt as though they couldn’t come to her with whatever was wrong with them? It seemed if it was up to Harry to decide it would be a loud resounding yes. 

“She was using a blood quill, Minerva.” said Severus darkly, “From what I gathered it was mostly Gryffindor’s, thankfully none of my Slytherin’s suffered, and if they did they’ve kept it quiet.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?!” shrieked Minerva horrified. 

“I tried to tell you,” snapped Harry, “But you just kept telling me to keep my head down!” 

Minerva gaped at Harry, realizing now perhaps the entire rant earlier may have been truthful. She was unable to speak, Harry had come to her and all she’d said was to keep his head down. She had not an inkling to the fact Umbridge was using a blood quill on her students. She was glad the witch was dead; otherwise she would have hunted her down and killed the witch herself. How dare she use a blood quill on her students? 

“That isn’t the only time you did, I told you someone was after the stone, instead of just saying you will look into it, I had to go down myself. Because of you I had to face my parent’s killer, make decisions no eleven year old should and kill a man.” said Harry harshly. “Did I even hear an ‘I’m sorry when it turned out I was right? No, you said nothing, did nothing then allowed Dumbledore to give us house points at the very last second stopping any other house from even trying to catch up.” 

“The stone was safe as it was.” said Minerva calmly, unknowingly causing Harry’s anger to rise exponentially. 

Severus winced, knowing very well what was coming. 

“I GOT THROUGH THEM! I WAS A FIRST YEAR WITH ONLY ONE YEAR OF MAGICAL TRAINING! I KNEW NOTHING OTHER THAN WHAT I HAD BEEN TAUGHT! HOW CAN YOU SAY IT WAS BLOODY SAFE?!” shouted Harry, his mind whirling at the fact she seriously thought it was safe. In what world was she living in? He was tempted to say she was in a world of her own.   
Minerva pursed her lips once again, unable to refute his statement since it was true. 

“Harry,” said Severus in warning, “Go take a calming draught, now.” 

Minerva blinked in disbelief when Harry got up and went through to the bathroom without as much as a protest. She could barely believe her eyes, despite what she had seen earlier. Dobby returned and placed the large platter on the table before leaving again. 

“Severus…what is going on?” asked Minerva bewildered. 

“Regarding what? Harry? He’s finally letting loose six years of pent up frustration at nobody listening to him until things go wrong.” said Severus bluntly. Harry had hit the nail on the head, he knew because Minerva had been unable to respond. Normally she didn’t take such blatant abuse standing still; despite looks to the contrary she could hold her own, even against him. Severus was helping lair the guilt so she would be more amendable to doing whatever he needed her to do.   
“You know what I’m talking about,” said Minerva her voice catching. The fact even Severus knew made her terribly upset, she hadn’t realized how she ostracised her own house. The fact it was Harry made it hurt a great deal more, she cared very deeply for Harry. Now it seemed as though she had done a piss poor job of caring. 

“What you walked in on was merely a training duel,” said Severus in explanation. 

“Brilliant!” exclaimed Harry as he came out of the bathroom looking much calmer, picking up the pitcher he poured himself a goblet full of orange juice. Grabbing a slice of strawberry tart he sat himself down, feeling more at ease. 

“A training duel?” repeated Minerva surprised. 

“Indeed,” said Severus sardonically. 

“Why? Albus specifically said no,” said Minerva. 

“Yes, why don’t we leave Harry to continue to fend for himself with what did you call it, ah, sheer dumb luck.” replied Severus the sarcasm bleeding from every pore. “You know Harry will have to find the Dark Lord at some point, and I would rather him know how to defend himself.” a few of the Order already knew, mostly the Auror’s, Shacklebolt, Moody and Tonks if he wasn’t mistaken. They occasionally asked about how it was going, and he didn’t tell them too much but enough to allude to it. He was a Slytherin and believed it was best to keep the true depth of your talents hidden.   
“I see your point,” sighed Minerva, the thought of Harry having to face Voldemort scared her; she knew it would happen at some point. “I still don’t understand why this is being kept from Albus, surely he could contribute?” 

“Contribute? Like he did by encouraging an eleven year old boy to find the stone? To face his parents killer at such a young age? Leaving the Mirror or Erised lying around so Harry would be forced to see the parents long ago lost to him? Having Harry and Granger go back in time to save Black and having the audacity to tell him to save a hippogriff as well? Or perhaps not doing all he could to get Harry out of the tournament? That kind of training? Sure why not? Let’s see what else we can do to Harry in the process of training him. Why not just bring the Dark Lord and Dementors to the gates just to see if Harry can accomplish another miracle.” snapped Severus. 

“To find the stone?” asked Minerva swallowing thickly, beginning to understand what exactly Harry had meant. If Dumbledore had been urging Harry to find the stone, it means by sending him away she had helped Dumbledore along. 

“Indeed,” said Severus blankly, “He had Hagrid pick it out of the vault with a curious eleven year old with him. Making a big show of how top secret it was and who it was for. Then proceeding to give Harry his father’s invisibility cloak, as Harry said…the traps were easy enough for a first year to get by.” 

“I see,” said Minerva looking sick. 

“Let’s not forget Hagrid should never have been sent to see to Harry in the first place. You are charged with helping the Muggle born students accustomed to our world, if you had gone you would have seen the Dursley’s were abusive. Instead someone completely loyal to Dumbledore went, with a passionate hatred of all things Slytherin because of his own experiences at Hogwarts.” said Severus.   
“Let’s not forget I didn’t know how to get onto the platform, Hagrid didn’t tell me.” said Harry after swallowing the last of his strawberry tart. His heart was glowing as if someone had cast a Fiendfyre spell on it; nobody had ever stood up for him like that before. It made him feel so good, in that moment he felt as though he could hug Severus and thank him a million times. It was a strange experience, one Harry wasn’t used to but he definitely could get used to it. 

“How did you learn about it?” asked Minerva shocked to the core. 

“I heard Molly talking about the platform and Muggles,” said Harry. 

“A woman who already had five children at the school was talking about Muggles and the platform loud enough for you to hear and in front of Muggles no less?” asked Severus his eyes narrowed in suspicion. 

“Shouting might have been a better description,” admitted Harry. 

“You aren’t suggesting what I think you are suggesting Severus!” said Minerva, feeling bad enough already. 

“You have to admit it’s a little suspicious, you know the rules, you’re supposed to stay inconspicuous.” said Severus, which was hard enough to do with most of the students electing to have owls as familiars.   
Harry swallowed thickly, he didn’t want to believe what they were saying, despite the fact he no longer got on with Ron…he liked the rest of the Weasley’s minus Percy. Although the feeling was mutual when it came to the stuck up idiot Minister of magic wannabe. He remembered how interested Ron had gotten when it became apparent who he was. No, everyone had reacted the same way, even Hermione had. It didn’t matter now though, his friendship with the pair of them was strained beyond repair. Truth be told Harry shouldn’t have accepted Ron’s apology after Ron calling him a liar for half a year. As if he’d wanted to put his bloody name in the goblet! Ron knew how much he hated his fame. 

“Minerva I need your oath that you will not tell anyone, and I mean anyone or anything about what you saw tonight.” said Severus firmly. 

“I don’t know Severus, I need your assurances that there is nothing untoward going on between you and Harry.” said Minerva. 

“There’s nothing going on!” cried Harry in exasperation. 

“I assure you, Minerva, there is nothing of the kind between myself and Harry.” said Severus. 

“Then I give you my word, an oath on my magic, Severus Snape that I shall never discuss in any manner the occurrences of tonight.” said Minerva. 

“I accept your oath, Minerva McGonagall,” said Severus for posterity. “So mote it be.” 

“So mote it be.” echoed McGonagall. “On the subject, I am sorry Harry, I had no idea how much I failed you.” 

“I forgive you, but I won’t forget.” said Harry honestly. 

Minerva nodded in understanding, it was more than she had expected. 

“How is his training going?” asked Minerva, speaking to Severus now. 

“It’s more just duelling at this point, Harry has surpassed what I can teach him,” said Severus proudly. 

Minerva gaped at Severus, not just because he’d complemented Harry but at the fact Harry was up to Severus’ standard. “How long have you been training him?” she asked stunned. 

“Since he started staying for the summers,” said Severus wryly. Another reason Minerva had failed Harry, she’d known how much they hated each other, yet she hadn’t protested on Harry’s behalf. 

“Does Sirius know?” asked Minerva. 

“No,” said Harry refilling his goblet with more juice. “He wouldn’t understand.” 

“No, I don’t suppose he would.” agreed Minerva, “What are you going to do with young Malfoy, Severus?” 

“At this rate, I do not know.” sighed Severus, things were going sour fast, after what Dumbledore had done to Harry and continued to do, and he half wanted to let Draco kill Dumbledore. Unfortunately he knew that the blonde didn’t have it in him, no he was too weak. It was apparent he wanted others to do his dirty work. No he would have to figure out how to make it seem like Draco killed Dumbledore to keep Narcissa safe. That was the main thing in all this, although Narcissa was no innocent she didn’t deserve to die. Not far marrying and being loyal to a man like Lucius Malfoy at any rate. It was one less thing to worry about with Minerva on their side, and not able to blab to Dumbledore. He really hadn't wanted to Obliviate her. He would have done though if it came to it.   
“It’s passed curfew, head up to bed,” said Severus, noticing the time. 

“Alright,” said Harry grabbing his school bag and replacing all his books into it, before heading to the door and throwing a “Goodnight.” back as he donned his cloak and disappeared. 

Minerva stared if she didn’t know any better…she’d think Severus was playing the role of a father to Harry. Was it possible? After the way Harry had been acting it certainly seemed so. He seemed to respond to Severus in a way he didn’t to anyone else. Well in private anyway, from all indications they hadn’t changed in potions class. It made her feel like an idiot for her earlier assumptions. If there was anyone that deserved to have a father figure in his life it would be Harry. She did wonder if either of them realized this or not, hmm it might be something to think on. 

“I apologize for my assumptions Severus, but students aren’t allowed in a teacher’s private quarters.” said Minerva. 

“You’d think the deputy headmistress would realize this, but it doesn’t say they aren’t allowed, it says they aren’t allowed uninvited, and unsurprisingly Harry did have my permission to be here. I am very offended that you would think the worst of me with so little to go on.” said Severus showing his irritation. 

“I know, I am sorry,” said Minerva, wondering if she would ever stop saying that. It seemed as if she had a lot to make up for, especially when it came to Harry.   
“The situation is resolved, let’s just leave it at that.” said Severus, not quite forgiving her just yet for her wild accusations. He unlike Harry didn’t forgive easily or at all, it just wasn’t in his nature. Although his son didn’t forgive easily, given how he’s still not forgiven his two ex-best friends. 

“If you ever need help, I am available,” said Minerva, “I have to ask…do you really think Harry will have to face Him?” 

“Why do you think Dumbledore has been subtly training him all these years? He’s faced Voldemort five times already in his short life and managed to come out on top barely. Albus is responsible and indirectly responsible for four of those times.” said Severus seriously. “The Dark Lord isn’t going to stop until he kills Harry, not just because Harry got the better of him so many times…but for reasons even Dumbledore hasn’t told you.” 

“If he knows why hasn’t he trained him?” asked Minerva baffled. 

“I cannot understand Albus Dumbledore or his reasoning, a fair guess was he doesn’t expect Harry to survive.” said Severus. He had no intentions of telling her about the Horcruxes, not ever. “I have the halls tonight Minerva, so if you will excuse me.” 

“Of course,” said Minerva, “Before I go may I trouble you for a calming draught Severus?” her mind was bursting with information and she was desperate not to react until she got to the comfort of her own quarters. 

“Accio Calming Draught,” said Severus, aware that Harry had probably left the cabinet door open, since no smashing resounded when the vial came launching through he realised he was right. Harry always left it open, just like he’d left some of his books lying around his quarters, and half his clothes down in his spare room. Without meaning to Harry had taken up space even here, it meant Harry felt comfortable around him. Half the time it amused half the time it exasperated him - like any parent he assumed. “Here you go.” 

“Thank you, Severus.” said Minerva “Goodnight.” she added before leaving his quarters all but running to her quarters avoiding everyone in the process. She wanted to be alone, no needed to be alone.


	57. Chapter 57

A New Place To Stay 

Chapter 57 

Christmas Coming Again 

Another month had gone by, more memories from Dumbledore about Tom Riddle and Harry feigning that he had no idea what they were about. Things had been so hectic that he had completely forgotten about what Luna had told him. When he did remember, he made his way down to the Dungeons intending on informing Severus. He didn’t know much important it was, but it was worth sharing. If it was a Deathly Hallow…it had to be the stone…the resurrection stone. His dad had kept all destroyed Horcruxes so they would be able to find out for sure if the story was indeed true. Luna believed in a lot of things that nobody did, but he was tempted to believe it. After all he was related to the Peverell’s; somewhere down the line they had changed it to Potter. He had a cloak of Invisibility that had been in his family for generations, it was a precious family heirloom. There were none other cloaks like his, a few invisibility cloaks yes, but not like his. The Gaunt’s were descendant from another branch of the Peverell line, and they conveniently had a ring with the sign? Too many coincidences and Harry wasn’t much of a fan of those. 

“I wasn’t expecting you tonight, everything okay?” asked Severus emerging from his book, staring at where Harry would be under his cloak. 

“You did save the broken Horcruxes didn’t you?” asked Harry removing his cloak, placing it up on the hooks by the door. The other hand was clutching a book, but that was nothing unusual Harry always had books in his hands wherever he went. 

“Yes,” said Severus cautiously, placing the book on the table, eyeing Harry curiously. “Why?” 

“Can I see the ring?” asked Harry hopefully. 

“Very well,” said Severus standing up he went to retrieve it wondering what his son was up to this time. 

Harry slumped on the seat, removing his shoes and relaxing his own book clutched in his hand. Staring over at the book his dad was currently reading. It was one he’d taken from the chamber. He didn’t get to read them often; he couldn’t very well take them around Hogwarts and read. The only time he got to was down here, but lately all they’d been doing was duelling, non-verbally more than anything these days. He did keep up on his book though, about Zar, he’d even drawn another picture of what he looked like now. He’d been trying to think up an interesting name, for when he wanted to publish it, but he wasn’t going to do that until the war was over. 

“What are you up to?” asked Severus as he returned with the item Harry wanted. He didn’t pass it to Harry, wanting to know what his son was planning. 

“See the insignia?” said Harry pointing towards the stone again. 

“Of course,” said Severus dryly, sitting down what on earth was he getting at? 

“I found out a month ago what it was, but everything that happened afterwards I completely forgot. Luna picked up a necklace for her father; it was that design and I asked her about it. Neville was sceptical but I actually believed her, especially when she revealed more information about it.” said Harry. 

“Indeed?” questioned Severus, it must have a valid principle to it otherwise Harry wouldn’t waste his time by bringing it up. 

“Have you read the book the beadle and the bard?” asked Harry. 

“Of course, I had memorised my mothers copy before I was nine years old.” said Severus wryly. 

“More specifically the tale of the three brothers.” stated Harry. 

“Yes,” said Severus arching an eyebrow, wondering what an old wizarding story book had to do with the sign.   
“I just finished reading it, it’s a great book.” said Harry grinning in amusement. 

“It is,” said Severus in agreement, perhaps he should have given Harry it to read, but he’d grown up with it so it really didn’t occur to him. He’d already brought Harry his Christmas presents this year, a complete work art set, so he could paint and colour to his hearts content. Then there was the permanent Portkey he’d created, he knew the war was going to get worse, and he wanted Harry to have a safe place. It activated on touch so he didn’t need to use magic and risk detection, it would take him to Prince Manor. He would always know when it activated too, so he could keep an eye on him. Last year he’d gotten Harry his new wand and a holster, practical items nothing he could use for recreational purposes. So this year he had gotten him both a practical and a recreational item. He hoped Harry liked them, he wasn’t used to giving gifts, but judging from his home life he knew Harry would probably appreciate all the gifts he was given. 

“What do you think of the tale?” asked Harry wondering if he even remotely believed the possibility. 

“I did not dwell on it,” said Severus honestly, starting to get irritated at the fact Harry was purposely drawing the conversation out to cause suspense. 

Harry nodded, “Do you believe it could be true?” asked Harry. 

“Perhaps, with magic all things are possible.” said Severus without giving a proper answer.   
“Not just possible, it’s true.” said Harry, “The three brothers were the Peverell’s, that’s the name at the top of my family tree.” 

“No names are mentioned in the tale.” said Severus wryly. 

“No, but history does make it true, the heirlooms make it true.” said Harry smugly. 

“How do you figure that?” asked Severus merely indulging Harry now. 

“Accio cloak,” said Harry, the cloak floated towards him and Harry handed it over. “The cloak of invisibility.” 

“There are other cloaks, Harry, this means nothing.” said Severus amused now. 

“Touch the stone,” said Harry confidently. 

Severus put a much put up on sigh before his long dexterous finger touched the stone. If Severus was pale before, he turned almost ghostly as he dropped the stone from his grasp shuddering. Either his own mind was playing tricks on him, or Lily had stood before him. Swallowing thickly, it seemed he had no choice but to believe Harry now. 

“Anyone who holds all three objects would become the Master of Death.” said Harry his voice grave. He had no doubt who his dad had seen, he was tempted to pick it up and see them himself. Unfortunately he knew the lure, he’d suffered it enough during his trips to the Mirror of Erised, nothing not even the stone could bring them back. The second brother had learned that lesson the hard way, it had driven him mad and he’d taken his own life. Pretty much what Dumbledore had said happened to many people who gazed upon the Mirror. People have wasted away in front of it, saying aloud, “It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.” 

Severus shivered he’d never heard Harry sound like that before.   
“Believe me now?” grinned Harry. 

“The truth is irrefutable,” said Severus sardonically. Picking the broken chunky ring up, refraining from touching the stone itself. This was a very dangerous weapon, like Harry had said; it didn’t do to dwell on dreams and forget to live. By Merlin this was…a part of magical history, it should be on display at a museum for everyone to see, if it wasn’t for the fact it was extremely dangerous. 

“I wonder if I could trace the wand,” said Harry thoughtfully. 

“There was a rumour, back in the day that Gregorovitch had a wand of unlimited power and was trying to duplicate its powers.” said Severus thoughtfully, “It was well before the Dark Lords time, Malfoy’s father if I remember correct regaled his son tales of the death stick or as he sometimes called it bodie of Ellhorn a reference frequented in a book called Magick Moste Evile it is said he used it as an instructor to write it.” 

“I’m surprised HE doesn’t want it,” said Harry. 

“I doubt he would care for rumours,” said Severus dismissing it. An instant later Severus was gasping in shock, bloody hell why hadn't he thought about it sooner? It could explain why he wanted Ollivander, he was a wand maker...no, surely not? He couldn't really be after a fabled wand? Even if it was the most powerful in existence?! The twin wands...if he knew he couldn't use his normal one to kill Harry...it may be what drove him down the path to seeking the Most powerful wand in existence. At least if he was looking for a wand, he didn't have to worry about Harry. 

“What is it?” asked Harry frowning, what had he said? 

“I’ll be right back,” said jumping for the Floo powder he threw it in and shouted the destination and was spat out at Gregorovitch’s residence. The place was in utter darkness, shivering he lit his wand and began walking around not daring to make a sound. The smell hit him first, before he saw the body of the tortured and dead wizard, his eyes open and glazed a permanent look of terror on his face. Swallowing thickly, he bent over the wizard and closed his eyes, saying a silent prayer. Nobody deserved to die in such a way, knowing he couldn’t be found here, he immediately went back through the Floo. He didn’t dare use magic lest he be accused of this…atrocity. 

He Floo’ed back to his Quarters, falling to his knees trying to stop himself from being sick. 

“Sev!” cried Harry, standing up staring wildly, “What happened?” 

“I do not know how you do it, Harry.” said Severus chuckling in disbelief, “Somehow you manage to pick up on things that shouldn’t be possible. You’ve hit the nail on the head, the reason Ollivander was taken, no doubt he’d be well aware of the legend, and probably through torture he revealed information about the Elder wand.” 

Harry shivered, getting Goosebumps all over him feeling a strong sense of foreboding he‘d never seen his dad like this before. 

"You mean He does know about it?" asked Harry his heart sinking. 

"Yes," said Severus, "Gregorovitch is dead; whatever he knows...the Dark Lord will know. He is searching for the death stick, no doubt thanks to the twin wands debacle during the graveyard incident." 

Harry swallowed thickly, "We need to get to it first." 

"An impossibility, we do not know who could have gotten it after Gregorovitch." replied Severus standing back up, feeling dizzy. Not just the body, he was used to it, he saw Nagini eating wizard and witches his stomach had hardened against the horror of life. No it was the knowledge that Voldemort was searching for a wand, the most powerful wand in existence that could be used to kill his son. He felt cold all over, what if he'd been training Harry against an unbeatable foe? If they had just figured it out sooner...Gregorovitch would have been able to tell them, they could have found it before the Dark Lord and once again thwart his plans. 

“Is there a chance HE didn’t do it?” asked Harry. 

“He did it,” said Severus quietly, he’d seen enough of his victims over the years, sitting down he resisted the urge to get up and start pacing. Carding his hand through his hair, trying to stem his agitation, what the hell was he supposed to do now? 

Harry sat back down too; things had just gotten a lot more complicated now. Instead of just searching for the remaining Horcruxes, they had an insane madman after the most powerful wand in existence. Great, just blood great, it was the last thing he needed. How could they get information when the man was dead? He didn’t live in the UK so going over Daily Prophet records hoping to find something was useless. They were truly at a dead end, there was nothing further they could do but find and destroy the Horcruxes and hope he could fight Voldemort at the end of the day.


	58. Chapter 58

A New Place To Stay 

Chapter 58 

December Already 

It was the twenty first of December and nearly everyone had gone home for the holidays. With the dark times approaching, all families wanted to spent Christmas together - unsure of how many others they’d get. Unfortunately Harry wasn’t getting to go to Prince Manor; he would have preferred that to being at Hogwarts, especially with the looks Dumbledore constantly gave him. It seemed for the first time, he was beginning to realize there was something different about Harry. Although thankfully, for most part he was away on ‘business’ which meant he was probably Horcrux hunting. So far without meaning to him and Severus had successfully beaten him to them. 

Shaking off his thoughts, Harry delved into yet another book, in secret he’d read Magick Moste Evile and the name lived up to expectations. His dad had probably guessed he was too meticulous to not realize one of his books had gone missing. It was back where it belonged now; he was onto other books, reading every defence book he could get his hands on. Which by the way wasn’t as easy as it seemed since Harry had turned into the worst Ravenclaw and read most books already. Trying to track the wand wasn’t as easy as it seemed, especially since the trail was so chaotic. Littered with murder, betrayal and blood no matter where the wand went, the wand wasn’t named just coined ‘the most powerful wand in existence’ in the papers archives. Madam Pince was happy enough to show him. 

“Hey, Harry, what are you up to?” asked Hermione sitting down. 

“None of your business,” said Harry, irritated by her presence. He scooped up everything not letting her see what he was doing. 

“Look, Harry, I could help!” said Hermione raising her voice. 

“I don’t need or want your help.” replied Harry calmly, moving to a different desk. He didn’t have to worry about putting the newspaper back or accidentally ripping since he’d made copies of them. They were too delicate for anything else, he had them all dating back to the founders time. They were down in the spare room in Sev’s quarters, somewhere he wished he was right now.   
“Shh!” ordered Madam Pince looking over at them. 

“Harry something is going on! Surely you can use my help? You know how good I am at research!” insisted Hermione; she’d seen him in the library for days on end. If she could get her friendship with Harry back on track she’d be happy. What better way than have her and Harry, figuring something out together? A bit like old times. He obviously didn’t confide in Neville or Luna since they were never here with him. 

“Listen to me. I. Do. Not. Need. Your. Help.” snapped Harry enunciating the words clearly. Why did she insist on bothering him all the time? Last year it had been Ron, at least he’d given him although it could do with him being with Lavender Brown. They were disgusting together, she called him ‘Won’ ‘Won’ all the time, and honestly they acted as though they were six years old. Between her trying to steal his potions book, and this he didn’t know how to deal with her.   
“Quiet down or leave.” warned Madam Pince glaring over at them, people should always be quiet in a library it was common courtesy. Although Mr. Potter had been respectful and quiet every time he was in here, which was more often than not. He had turned into a right big bookworm, he’d read quite a lot of the library books and she was rather fond of him. Not enough to put up with noise in her library though, since other students were trying to work, and do their essays. 

“Go away, Hermione.” said Harry sighing in exasperation. 

“Please, Harry.” said Hermione, her brown eyes filling with tears, Ron was always with that…that…blonde bimbo, she wasn’t comfortable talking to the girls her own age, Harry was the only one left. 

“NO! FOR THE FINAL TIME!” snapped Harry. 

“That is out, out! Go on, shoo!” said Madam Pince rounding her workstation, ready to force them out of her library if need be. 

“Don’t worry, ma’am I’m leaving.” said Harry respectfully standing up, slinging his bag on his back, he gathered all his stuff. Which was close to toppling out of his hands, and strode from the library cursing Hermione all the way. 

“Harry, please!” said Hermione not giving up as she stalked after him.   
“HERMIONE JUST LEAVE ME THE BLOODY HELL ALONE!” shouted Harry, his voice echoing down the corridors. 

Hermione flushed red in humiliation as people sniggered as they walked past. “Why won’t you forgive me?” she whispered heartbroken. 

“Do you remember what you said to me during first year? When Ron got hurt?” asked Harry, staring at her impassively. 

“Yes, there are more important things than books and cleverness.” said Hermione a bittersweet look crossing her face. How simple life had been back then, she may not have showed it but she’d been so happy to have friends.

“Do you remember the conversation we had in the hospital wing afterwards?” asked Harry. 

“About what?” asked Hermione frowning, not understanding what Harry was getting at. He had a point; Harry always made points these days, whether be at answering questions or irritating the hell out of teachers by being a smart mouth. Like he had been with Umbridge, he was calm, too calm, and it unnerved her completely. She was used to Harry’s temper getting the better of him all the time.   
“How we suspected Dumbledore had done it on purpose, so I could face my parent’s killer.” stated Harry coolly. 

“Yes,” said Hermione, a sinking feeling her stomach, she knew where he was going with this. It was why he refused to be her friend again, because he respected her teachers like her parents had taught her. 

“Yet you still put him over our friendship, I’ll never forgive you Hermione. I did it time and time again, and when I needed you most you didn’t just let me down…you may as well have torn out my heart and stomped on it. I could have used your wisdom that summer. Hermione…I had just seen Voldemort brought back, watched Cedric Diggory die, because I told him to take the cup. I would never have done what you did, no matter what anyone said. Which made me realize I valued our friendship more than you did, I’m over that, I’ve moved on and you should too. Just don’t make the same mistakes you have again.” said Harry softly, looking tired. 

“Can’t we try again?” pleaded Hermione, “There was no way we could send letters, everyone was watching.” 

“DON’T INSULT ME INTELLIGENCE HERMIONE.” snapped Harry irritated by her constant defence. “You could have written it and waited until everyone was asleep before opening a window and sending it off.” 

“What if it had led the Death Eaters to you?” she said defensively. 

“They thought I was in Privet Drive, I wasn’t - don’t try defending yourself, it wont change anything.” said Harry, “Now just leave me alone, I mean it or I’ll hex you!” with his part said he stalked away, going to Gryffindor common room to get the rest of his books and cloak before going down to the dungeons.   
Harry relaxed once he was a few corridors away from Hermione, he had come close to giving in and that was a bad thing. He had to remember what she done; she’d ignored him the entire summer, when he’d been going through a very emotional time. It would have been worse if Severus hadn’t realized he was abused, he owed his dad a lot. He’d helped him overcome a lot of turmoil he’d felt since first year, made him really see he wasn’t to blame for a lot of the things he’d been blaming himself for. He was always there when he needed someone to talk to. Gave him a reason to end the war as fast as possible, and given him the means to end it by training him. 

Muttering the password to get into the common room, he stepped in surprised to see Neville sitting there. 

“Hey, I thought you were going home for Christmas?” said Harry surprised. 

“I changed my mind, I’ve already spoken to Professor McGonagall,” said Neville. “She said it was fine, so I’m staying for the holidays.” 

“Cool,” said Harry at least he would have some decent company. 

“Is it?” asked Neville staring at Harry curiously. 

“Of course it is,” said Harry staring at Neville confused. 

“You’ve been ignoring me for the past month, Harry.” said Neville.   
“No I’ve not,” said Harry baffled, “We played Chess just last night.” 

“I know your busy trying to find things,” said Neville pointedly, knowing Harry would get what he was talking about without mentioning the word ‘Horcrux’. “It’s why I’ve not brought it up…is there anything I can do to help? I know I’m no good at much but hopefully I might be able to help a little.” 

“I’m sorry, Nev.” said Harry guiltily. “Come on; let’s go somewhere more…private.” 

“Alright,” said Neville standing up. 

“Just give me a minute to grab some stuff,” said Harry, once he was done explaining everything to Neville he had plans to go and visit Severus. Running up to his dorm, he unlocked his trunk and began shoving everything he needed into his school bag. Which was expanded inside, so he was able to fit everything in, it also came with a feather light charm so it wouldn’t be too heavy. Nodding to himself, he closed his bag grabbed his cloak and ran back down the stairs. Neville was at the door, just opening it when he emerged of the spiralling staircase.   
\------0  
“So what’s going on?” asked Neville, sitting down on one of the seats the Room of Requirement had created for them. 

“Do you remember me asking Luna about the Hallow sign?” asked Harry sitting down on the large squishy chair. Spinning it around until he could face Neville directly, he knew Neville was smarter than everyone gave him credit for, more powerful too. 

“Yeah,” said Neville mystified.

“It’s true,” said Harry. 

“What’s true? The sign?” replied Neville even more perplexed. 

“The story, about the three brothers, meeting death and getting the three items.” said Harry. 

“It’s a children’s story, Harry, my Gran used to read it to me.” said Neville. 

 

“Haven’t you realized by now everything written down happened at one point? Steeped I legend and myth honestly everyone acts like Muggles disbelieving everything all of a sudden.” said Harry. “The three brothers happened to be my ancestors, the story based on the tale of the Peverell brothers. Which is at the very top of my family tree and where my cloak of invisibly came from.” 

Neville still looked a tad sceptical. 

“There were once three brothers who were travelling along a lonely, winding road at twilight. In time, the brothers reached a river too deep to wade through and too dangerous to swim across. However, these brothers were learned in the magical arts, and so they simply waved their wands and made a bridge appear across the treacherous water. They were half way across when they found their path blocked by a hooded figure.” said Harry, his voice commanding all attention. 

“And Death spoke to them. He was angry that he had been cheated out of three new victims, for travellers usually drowned in the river. But death was cunning. He pretended to congratulate the three brothers upon their magic, and said that each had earned a prize for having been clever enough to evade him.” said Neville wryly; he knew it from back to front. 

“So the oldest brother, who was a combative man, asked for a wand more powerful than any in existence: a wand that must always win duels for its owner, a wand worthy of a wizard who had conquered Death! So Death crossed to an elder tree and on the banks of the river, fashioned a wand from a branch that hung there, and gave it to the oldest brother.” added Harry, having to read it, impressed with Neville’s ability to recall each word. 

“Then the second brother, who was an arrogant man, decided that he wanted to humiliate Death still further, and asked for the power to recall others from Death. So Death picked up a stone from the riverbank and gave it to the second brother, and told him that the stone would have the power to bring back the dead.” said Neville effortlessly. 

“And then Death asked the third and youngest brother what he would like. The youngest brother was the humblest and also the wisest of the brothers, and he did not trust Death. So he asked for something that would enable him to go forth from that place without being followed by Death. And Death, most unwillingly, handed over his own Cloak of Invisibility. Then Death stood aside and allowed the three brothers to continue on their way and they did so, talking with wonder of the adventure they had had, and admiring Death’s gifts.” finished Harry.   
“Yes, then the elder brother killed someone with the wand, and then boasted about how he was invincible only to be killed in his sleep - the wand taken by his murderer.” said Neville. 

“The only item that didn’t stay in the family.” said Harry quietly; closing the beadle and the bard tales, he didn’t know why but he loved the tales. Perhaps he was just fascinated with them because he hadn’t had the opportunity to hear them as a child. 

“Alright…convince me,” said Neville his convictions wavering. 

“Ignotus Peverell is my direct descendant, he was the one who was given the cloak.” said Harry handing over his precious heirloom. “Look at it, it still looks brand new and it’s been in my family for generations. I saw Moody’s cloak and it’s faded.” 

“Okay,” said Neville. "But what if the three brothers actually created the items themselves and added Death just to make it more adventerious?" 

“The resurrection stone, belonged to the Gaunt family, which at some point joined with the Slytherin line, they all had the ability to talk to snakes.” said Harry. He was about to aknoweldge Neville's point when he spoke distracting him. 

“No! You mean You-Know-Who has it?” said Neville astonished. 

“He used it to create a Horcrux,” whispered Harry as if he was worried someone would overhear him. “It’s gone now, I destroyed it.”   
“Luna would love this!” said Neville astonished. She had been right all along! He could barely believe it. 

“You know how Ollivander is gone?” questioned Harry. 

“It’s been months now, he’s probably gone.” said Neville sadly. He had been terrified of the wizard when he first met him, well he’d been terrified of everyone even his own shadow back then. 

“No, Voldie has been looking for the Elder wand, the most powerful wand in existence.” said Harry sighing tiredly. 

“Why?” asked Neville. The wizard was scary, powerful and terrifying why would he want a wand? Even if it was supposed to be the most powerful wand in existence.   
“When I was Portkey’d with Cedric out of the maze, I ended up having to duel Him.” confessed Harry, ignoring the wide terrified eyes of the boy in front of him. You’d think he’d feel a bit better having actually faced the monster last year. “Not that it was much of a duel, I didn’t know much…I cast the disarming spell, he fired Avada Kedavra, but the spells met in the middle, and something strange happened. A magnificent golden dome surrounded us, phoenixes began thrilling and we were raised off our feet. And the people he had killed began to emerge from his wand…including my parents.” 

“Oh Merlin!” cried Neville, Harry must have been terrified. He belated realized he was actually one of the few who knew what happened that night. 

“You see, our wands were the same, brothers, and both had phoenix feathers from Fawkes.” said Harry. “Every time we fight…that’s what would happen, we can’t fight each other.” 

“So that’s why he’s after this Elder wand?” asked Neville. “How the hell do you know this?” 

“Didn’t you read the newspaper? Gregorovitch is dead, he was tortured to death. They were trying to get information on who had the wand.” said Harry. 

“The German wand maker? Why would he know about it?” asked Neville curiously.   
"Why else? They bragged about having the stupid wand." said Harry shaking his head in irritation. "He was also trying to duplicate its powers...but we don't know any more than that."   
"We?" asked Neville.   
"Yeah. I've been trying to find out who has it now...before Voldie catches up with them...he's already got a head start with Gregorovitch since we have no idea what he revealled before they killed him." said Harry.   
“Want me to ask my Gran?” asked Neville. 

“No, you said she believed Dumbledore…what if she tells him?” said Harry quickly. 

“She doesn’t talk to him on a daily basis, she never even joined the Order when my parents did.” said Neville. 

“Whoa, you know about the Order?” asked Harry shocked. 

“Of course I do,” said Neville, “It may not seem like it, but my Gran does care most of the time.” 

“I didn’t say she didn’t, Nev.” said Harry seriously. 

“So will I ask? She might know some rumours?” suggested Neville.   
Harry bit his lip thoughtfully, was it a risk he was prepared to take? She had to be around maybe Dumbledore’s age…at least maybe eighty ninety years old. She might know something and he wasn’t getting anywhere with his searches on the wand at least nothing conclusive anyway. He didn’t have many more pages to flip through before he was done. He had the path of nine wizards who had owned the wand at some point, with large gaps where it seemed to fade out of existence. “Go on then, but don’t let her know anything else.” said Harry. 

“I won’t.” swore Neville solemnly. 

“Alright,” said Harry in agreement. 

“Elder wand…I assume it was an Elderberry tree it was created from?” said Neville thoughtfully. 

“Um, must have been.” said Harry he hadn’t really thought about that. 

“Certainly will be one of a kind then, recognizable.” said Neville. 

“It would have to be, otherwise nobody would know if they had it or not.” Harry pointed out.   
"Has there ever been a picture of it?" asked Neville.   
"Not that I can find," admitted Harry.   
"Gregorovitch...so a wizard or witch that has been to Germany and come back here?" said Neville.   
"Not nessessarily, the wand could be anywhere, I've not been able to place it since Gregorovitch." said Harry slumping on his seat. He hadn't been able to leave it alone, not after seeing how Severus had reacted. He had been terrified, and not even hearing the prophecy had bothered him. "For all I know its still in Germany."   
"Yeah, thats a dilema." admitted Neville thoughtfully.   
"Yup," agreed Harry sighing exasperatedly. "Granger got me and herself thrown out the bloody libarary."   
"She did?" asked Neville gaping, Hermione Granger a bookworm got kicked out the libarary? there was a first for everything.   
"Yeah, hopefully I got through to her though," said Harry, frowning, he didnt want to keep yelling at her all the time. Part of his felt sorry for her, she liked Ron that much was obvious, and he was too enamoured with Lavander Brown to notice. Then again Ron wouldn't notice anything in front of him unless it was food.   
“So is that why you got an extra wand? Because of the twin wand core thing?” asked Neville. 

Harry twitched, he kept underestimating Neville, how the hell had he realized? If he did then maybe Dumbledore did and that thought wasn’t tolerable at all. “How and when did you find out?” asked Harry. 

“The shower, you had a white pattern where a calf wand holder would be,” said Neville simply. It was just after the summer holidays and Harry had been tanned everywhere else other than his wrist and calf. “You also had one of your wrist which means you have two wands…nobody goes around with a spare holster attached somewhere.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” asked Harry surprised. 

“Actually I was more interested in your ‘tattoo’” said Neville smirking devilishly. He knew it wasn’t a tattoo, he’d found the book, or rather it was a tattoo when it was on him…but a familiar when it was off. He’d though he was going crazy when he noticed it missing one time when they were getting ready for bed.   
Harry grinned sheepishly, already deducing that Neville had already figured out what it really was. Although he probably thought it was a snake, and he wasn’t about to tell him what Zar really was. He would freak out, it was a Basilisk after all, and it could kill with a single look. Although he was proud to say that Zar hadn’t harmed anyone, he was a good Basilisk. Any creature would love you if you treated him or her right, and if you hurt them…then sooner or later they would snap and it would be most likely fatal.   
"I have to go, I'll talk to you later." said Harry realizing the time.   
"Okay, I'll go write to Gran." said Neville.   
"Bye," said Harry as they seperated ways, Neville echoed his goodbye before they could no longer see each other.   
\--------0   
“Everything alright?” asked Severus, he could see Harry wasn’t getting enough sleep, he didn’t say anything through because the same was happening to him. 

“Not really,” admitted Harry quietly, removing his shoes and sitting down, his cloak already on a peg. “I can’t find any more information…it’s as if it disappeared of the face of the earth when Gregorovitch got his hands on it.” 

“Perhaps it did,” said Severus. 

“Viktor Krum got his wand from Gregorovitch, I wonder if he knows more about him than we do?” mused Harry getting desperate now. 

“Do you know anything about Ollivander?” Severus pointed out seriously. 

“Good point,” said Harry nodding reluctantly conceding Severus’ point. “Do you know any other Wandmakers?” 

“I do not,” said Severus, “I’ve already tried that path.” If one Wandmaker could know the legend perhaps others did, but he couldn’t find one that could shed some light on it.   
"Do the Germans have their own version of a magical newspaper?" asked Harry curiously.   
"I have no idea," replied Severus thoughtfully, it was a good question.   
Sighing Harry got up and moved towards the fireplace, sitting on the large fluffy rug and emptied the contents of his bag out on the floor. Spreading the copied newspaper out, he began to meticulously place them by date, which took more time than he thought. Eventually half an hour later, he had them in order and placed neatly between his legs. 

“Here,” said Severus handing him a coffee before going back to his seat. 

“Thanks,” said Harry smiling briefly before digging into his work. 

Then the door unexpectedly opened, too stunned to move he froze. He narrowed his eyes on Draco Malfoy, his lip curling in disgust. He refrained from saying anything though, he had promised Severus to keep it zipped. Turning back to his newspaper he ignored the stunned boy, as if he wasn’t there. 

“Come in, Draco.” said Severus exasperated. 

“I can come back…” said Draco awkwardly, staring between both of them confused. He hadn’t realized his godfather was that close with Potter and it made his stomach churn with jealousy. Severus was his godfather! Not Potter’s why was he getting to cosy up to him? It wasn’t fair.   
“Sit down,” said Severus narrowing his eyes, indicating he was loosing his patience. 

Draco moved almost shoving his feet, and in the process one of Harry’s journals was kicked. The page about the locket and cup came fluttering out. Landing at Draco Malfoy’s feet, the boy looked down the sneer that had been painted on his face disappeared leaving his paler than even Severus. 

“Why do you have this picture in your diary, Potter?” sneered Draco, or rather he tried it didn’t come out how he would have preferred. 

“It’s not a diary, it’s a journal,” snapped Harry scooping both items up. 

“Enough, there’s a war going on outside, without starting one in here.” said Severus warning both of them. 

“I’d respond to that but it would just make you mad.” said Harry pointedly. 

“You’ve never held back, why start now?” replied Severus sardonically. 

Harry narrowed his eyes, should he? Shouldn’t he? “Sirius Black. It’s not as easy as you think to put aside animosity.” said Harry softly. 

“Touché,” conceded Severus, he had no compared it like that before. Perhaps Harry was right, and his godson and the boy he thought of as a son would never get on. Black had nearly killed him and Draco had cast an equivalent of an unforgivable. “Why did you ask about the picture?” wondering which one he had been referring to, the locket or cup. 

Draco shook his head obviously not in a sharing mood. 

“Draco, you swore to be completely truthful, if you go back on it then I will withdraw my help.” said Severus, cruel to be kind.   
“I’ll tell you,” said Draco childishly. 

“Draco,” growled Severus reaching the end of his tether with them already. 

“I’ve seen it before,” admitted Draco. 

“The locket?” asked Severus, it had been in the Black family so it wouldn’t surprise him. 

“No, the cup.” replied Draco. 

“Where?” insisted Severus and Harry in unison. 

“Well, not seen exactly, more like glimpsed.” said Draco looking trapped. 

“Who taught you Occlumency?” asked Severus understanding immediately.   
“My aunt,” said Draco quietly. 

Harry snorted; Malfoy had the nerve to get on at him about knowing about Sirius when he was with his insane auntie Bellatrix? That family was so screwed up. He arched an eyebrow, not at all bothered by the glare Draco sent his way. 

“Draco this is important, where did you see it? Did you recognize the area?” asked Severus urgently. Unbelievably another Horcrux was just landing in their lap, although thankfully Draco didn’t understand the significance of what he was revealing. With a bit of luck he never would, Draco didn’t have the stomach to learn the lengths that The Dark Lord had gone to become immortal. He didn't even have the nerve to conceal the spell he'd used on Harry, he was not Death Eater material. 

“Gringotts, why?” asked Draco confused by his godfathers odd behaviour. 

“Great,” groaned Harry, just how the hell were they supposed to get into Gringotts of all places? It was impenetrable…wait, no it wasn’t, Quirrellmort had gotten in somehow. They’d successfully gotten into the vault and disappeared without a trace. Sure they hadn’t been successful but that’s only because Dumbledore had removed it. At least they had another Horcrux, even if they were failing in the ability to find the wand.   
“Why?” asked Draco confused by their reactions, what was he missing? 

“It’s of no consequence.” replied Severus flippantly. 

“Right,” replied Draco with enough doubt to be heard around the entire Ministry of magic building. 

Harry rolls his eyes, and begins flipping through the newspapers; there was nothing they could do about the Horcrux tonight anyway. He was more interested in finding out about the Elder wand. Although he didn’t think he would get more information. For three weeks he’d been unsuccessful, and these were the last batch of newspapers he would be reading. 

He tried not to listen in on Malfoy’s conversation with Severus, but he couldn’t help but hear some of it. He was asking Severus if he had come up with a plan to help his mother yet. Harry felt his heart twist; he would have done anything for his mum too. They had that in common, but that was as far as their likeness ended as far as he was concerned. 

“I have two ideas, both will need swift actions and even greater acting.” said Severus, not just on Draco and his part, but Harry’s as well. 

“What?” asked Draco hopeful. 

“I need to iron out the details, but do not worry I will let you know when the time is right.” said Severus seriously. 

“Alright,” agreed Draco reluctantly.


	59. Chapter 59

A New Place To Stay 

Chapter 59 

Realizing Who Has The Wand 

“That’s my Gran replied, would you like to read it?” asked Neville, folding it up as a teacher was passing close to them. It held nothing incriminating, or worrying of course, but he was just used to keeping everything a secret. From what happened to his parents, his feelings and everything with Harry. He understood the need for secrecy, he didn’t know much about Horcruxes, but what he did know was that it was the foulest magic. It explained how he survived, although it certainly didn’t explain how Harry had survived though. He didn’t think anyone would ever know though, it would remain a mystery until the end of time. 

“Sure,” said Harry grabbing his backpack, stuffing the letter from ‘Snuffles’ into it, deciding to read it later. He was more interested in what Neville’s grandmother had to say. She was old; she belonged to the other generation so she probably knew a lot of information that wasn’t freely available these days. Although he wasn’t sure if she would tell them anything they didn’t know. She certainly wouldn’t know much about wood and fruit like Neville did with the Elderberry tree. Purely as an afterthought he grabbed an orange from the bowl; he was still a little hungry. 

“Come on then,” said Neville grabbing his own bag after stepping away from the chair, his face going red no matter his age - he seemed to always forget things. Although truth be told, he wasn’t as bad as he used to be, especially during his first year at Hogwarts. It helped that Harry constantly reminded him, he was a good friend, knew all of Neville’s weaknesses and strengths and didn’t seem to be put off with them. Added to the fact with Harry, he never had to worry about forgetting the password because Harry always knew it. 

Together both of them rushed up the steps, grateful that the stairs didn’t seem to be in a mischievous mood today. They passed the corridor for Gryffindor common room and continued on up until they got to the seventh floor. Neville walked passed it three times, then the door appeared for them, looking around seeing nobody, they stepped in and closed it, causing the room to disappear once again. 

“So what does she say?” asked Harry sitting down on one of the chairs Neville had created for them. It was similar to Hogwarts library, but instead of just rows of hard chairs and desks, there were also comfortable seats they could sit on. Yanking his bag off, he sighed in gratitude when he felt the weight of it pile off him. The feather light charm must be wearing off; either that or it had been taken off as a prank. He was tempted to believe it was the second option; spells didn’t just ‘wear off’. 

“My Gran wrote three pages,” said Neville looking it over bemused, both sides were inked to the max. 

“Hmm,” said Harry, sitting close together, they began to read her missive, reacting at information they didn’t know with impressiveness. Apparently it wasn’t just the elder wand that could change its allegiance, all wands could. That fascinated Harry, if that was true, what did it mean? Did the wand not work to its full capacity? Could whoever it belonged to cause it to be summoned to them? She added that wizards usually took the wands of their defeated opponent and used it. Not because it was more powerful or not always the case, but as a mark of their accomplishments. 

“OH IM SUCH AN IDIOT!” shouted Harry standing up; the letter floated to the floor, Neville automatically scooped it up as he looked at Harry curiously. 

“What?” asked Neville, wondering if Harry was up to sharing any time soon.   
“I’ll be right back!” said Harry grabbing his school bag, noticing Neville’s ‘Yeah right’ look. “I mean it, I’ll be right back I just need to find something…I’ll meet you back in Gryffindor common room!” 

“Alright,” agreed Neville, wondering how long Harry’s ‘I’ll be right back’ will turn into. Shaking his head wryly, they both left the room, Harry bounding away down the stairs. He headed for Gryffindor common room, wondering where he was going…the library? It was only four floors down in any case. 

When Harry neared the dungeons, he ducked into the passageway and slipped on his cloak. Taking a deep breath, having just bolted down seven flights of stairs. Not that he was exhausted per say, just a little breathless. A few years ago, Harry wouldn’t have been able to do it, and if he had, he would have been near passed out on the floor. Listening intently to the other side of the passage way, listening for any noise. Nodding that he was probably safe, he slid out and began his trek to the dungeons, more specifically his room in Severus’ quarters. 

Holding his breath, he flattened himself against the wall as a large group of Slytherins came around a corner. Damn, thought Harry, he should have started back, there was no way they’d pass him without bumping into him. Backing as far as he could into the little crevice, letting out a relieved breath, when miraculously none of them touched him. He waited on them leaving before he dared move again, listening for any other students that may come that way. A lot of Slytherins had chosen to stay this Christmas. He wasn’t sure why, maybe the pressure was getting to them - they all knew Voldemort’s real name and blood status, it was no surprise they didn’t want to join Voldemort. He knew though, that if push came to shove, they would do what they had to - join him and stay alive. 

Two corridors later, he was finally sliding into his dad’s quarters, it was silent, he wasn’t sure if he was in his lab or not. Regardless he just made his way to his bedroom, and summoned the newspaper clippings, especially needing the ones for the two years 1945 to 1946. The paper flew at him, neatly and in order of their date, it dawned on him he could have used dobby, but it didn’t matter now. He just rolled his eyes and quickly left the room, if he was right, he would bloody curse himself! It would have been right there in front of him all this time. He didn’t want to jump to conclusions but it seemed to him the most likely scenario. 

The corridors along the dungeons remained empty until he got to the Potions corridor, hearing voices or mostly one shouting he halted just at the corner and listened intently. It sounded like Professor Slughorn and Dumbledore speaking…Dumbledore sounded furious, Slughorn pathetic and worn. He could only get a few words of their sentences before a silencing spell must have been cast as their voices cut off in mid-sentence and silence reigned over the dungeons once more. ‘Need to know’ ‘Vitally important to the war efforts’ from Dumbledore, Slughorn had denied whatever it is that Dumbledore had implied. 

He knew Dumbledore could see through his cloak, or at least assumed so. He couldn’t leave it too long, and he didn’t want caught by the Slytherins coming back when they did. He would have to leave now, looking around he took a deep breath and bolted away from the dungeons - he’d think on what he heard later. It might have something to do with why Dumbledore wanted him so desperately at Hogwarts. 

He looked at the seven floors with a disgruntled look on his face. Sighing in resignation, he removed the cloak and stuffed it into his backpack not caring who saw now since he was far enough away from the dungeons. Not that there seemed to be anyone around, it was too cold to be wandering around outside, so most would be in their common room keeping warm around the roaring fireplace. With that he began running towards Gryffindor common room, keeping an eye on the time. 

“Hey,” said Neville looking up slightly surprised to see Harry was actually back, when he said he’d be back it took sometimes half an hour. 

Breathing deeply, he just waved his hand not speaking, as he tried to regain control of his breathing. Bending over, his hands on his knees as Severus taught him, he took long deep breaths until his insides stopped rattling around. Slumping on the floor, relaxing allowing the warmth soothe him. 

“What did you figure out?” asked Neville impatiently, he wanted to know. 

“It’s just a suspicion I have right now, I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.” said Harry. 

“Alright what do you suspect?” asked Neville moving down beside him so they could talk without shouting. 

“The trail for the wand ended around 1899, that’s when Gregorovitch was rumoured to have it and it being stolen…now you tell me what powerful wizard was around during that time?” said Harry, “In Germany of all places.” 

“1899? That’s along time, nearing one hundred and eighteen years ago.” said Neville frowning as he tried to figure out what Harry had evidently guessed. 

“Yes, think along the lines of a Dark Lord.” said Harry flipping through the papers. His green eyes gleamed with satisfaction when he had the proof of his thoughts staring at him from the black and white pictures. 

“Grindelwald?” gaped Neville, “You don’t mean Dumbledore has it do you?” 

Harry looked up and grinned, see, Neville was smarter than people gave him credit for. 

“This is a picture of Dumbledore at his sister’s funeral, the bust up between him and his brother…” said Harry flattening the paper out and handing it over. It was Godric’s Hollow, where his own parents were buried. “Their wands are drawn, look at Dumbledore’s.” 

“Alright,” said Neville accepting the paper, “That doesn’t look like an Elder wand…or how I imagined it.” 

“That’s because its not the Elder wand…this is.” said Harry handing over the other paper which had a picture of Dumbledore and his accomplishment in defeating Grindelwald and returning to the UK after his arrest and placement in Nurmengard. The wand was glaringly different from the one in the other picture, not only in shape but in length too. There was no mistaken the other picture for an Elder wand, Neville could see the little spaces where the berries imprints were. 

“Well we don’t have to worry about him getting it then, he’s scared of Dumbledore and wouldn’t dare try anything.” said Neville looking a little relieved. 

“I don’t think he’s figured it out yet,” said Harry, there was no way he’d want Draco Malfoy to deal with Dumbledore if it were the case…unless it was his plan all along. Get Draco Malfoy to kill him, then Voldemort kills a seventeen year old boy to claim the Elder wand for his own. He’d figured it out; surely it wouldn’t take Voldemort that long? Then again he wouldn’t want anyone else to know, and it wasn’t as simple as flipping through newspapers for him now was it? 

“How come?” asked Neville his eyebrows drawing in confusion. 

“Just a suspicion I have,” said Harry shaking his head, he couldn’t tell Neville everything unfortunately. Especially not information about Draco Malfoy, he didn’t like talking about the blonde idiot. To Harry he was an idiot, imagine letting himself be marked as a Death Eater and thinking he had what it takes to kill Albus Dumbledore when everyone else had failed. 

“Shouldn’t you warn Dumbledore? I mean it doesn’t have anything to do with the... you know what’s.” said Neville, the Elder wand was a Deathly Hallow not a Horcrux. 

“He would want to know how I knew,” said Harry shaking his head, no he wasn’t about to tell Dumbledore anything. Which reminded him about the conversation he’d overheard, perhaps he should share it with Severus when he could. 

“I guess,” added Neville thoughtfully. “How did you figure it out? What was in my Gran’s letter that made you realize?” 

“The fact the victor takes the wand as their own, I joined the dots, the wands disappearance, the Dark Lord Grindelwald…and Dumbledore defeating him.” said Harry shrugging, he was good at figuring out information, having being doing it for so long now. “I told you it was just a suspicion to begin with.” 

Neville nodded, that was true, and Harry hadn’t said anything until he was one hundred percent sure. 

“Well that’s one thing solved,” said Harry, slumping down until he was looking at the ceiling of the common room. It had been a few days since he’d seen his dad, he would have to go down. He’d been dying to ask what he meant about ironing out the details, he was up to something he wanted to know what it was. He’d wanted to ask there and then, but Malfoy had been there. He’d been glaring at him the entire time he was there; it piqued his curiosity, why would Malfoy be jealous of him? He couldn’t figure out why else he’d glare at him, if anyone had the right to feel jealous it was him. 

“Bloody hell,” said Neville. 

“What?” asked Harry sitting up looking around as if suspecting Hermione Granger to be lurking in the shadows. 

“Its lunch time…its lunch time already! I can’t believe it.” stated Neville gaping at the watch as if he couldn’t figure out how time had flown in so quickly. 

Stifling a yawn, Harry looked at his own watch and realized Neville was telling the truth. “It might only be lunch time but I’m exhausted.” admitted Harry, he just wanted to roll into bed and fall asleep for a few hours. 

“Shouldn’t have stayed up until three o’clock in the morning then,” said Neville, “Are you coming down? Or will I bring you some food up?” 

“Dobby would be quicker,” said Harry, but nonetheless he stood up, flicking out his wand he recast the feather light spell on his backpack. Slipping it on his arm, he put all the paper into it before slipping it on his back and together they made their way back down to the Great Hall, unable to believe it had already been four hours since they’d last been there. 

“I can’t believe its only two days to Christmas either,” said Neville thoughtfully. 

“I know,” agreed Harry, “Too bad Luna’s dad decided he wanted her home for the holidays.” he knew Neville missed her a great deal; he did too but nowhere near as Neville. 

“I know,” murmured Neville sadly, it wasn’t their first holiday as a couple…but it was a special occasion, he’d hoped to spend seeing the New Year with her he had to admit. Plus the home wasn’t exactly extravagantly protected; he was terrified every day something could happen to her. One more year, just one more year of Hogwarts that’s if they survived the hell that was Voldemort, they would be free to do whatever they wanted. Luna could drive him crazy, and then a few minutes later he could be remembering why he loved her. 

“Her dad wouldn’t let anything happen to her,” said Harry, it was merely a platitude, and Neville would know it - he just didn’t know what else to say. He knew what Neville was likely thinking about, and he just wanted to try and make him feel better. It was even more dangerous because she was his friend, if anything happened to her he would never forgive himself. 

Walking into the Great Hall, he sat at his table, glancing up looking at the teachers. Meeting Severus’ eyes, he was about to move on when he noticed Severus gesture to his watch. Harry turned away and nodded his head as he plated some lunch, his dad wanted to talk to him.


	60. Chapter 60

A New Place To Stay 

Chapter 60 

Talking To His Father 

It was harder to slip away unnoticed with the school so empty, but he succeeded after going to ‘bed’ at nine o’clock. Since he’d been up until three AM the night before, it wasn’t suspicious, added to the fact Harry had been yawning all afternoon. He did have to wait until Neville actually fell asleep though before he could leave. Looking at his watch impatiently as Neville began to snore loudly; finally, it had only taken forty five minutes. Sliding from the bed he put his shoes and cloak on which had his map stuffed inside. Once he was away from that side of the room, he slid a marble along the floor right next to Neville’s drawers; he felt guilty about doing it but needs a must. The marble on the floor would let him know the second any moment was sensed. Since the others who usually share his dorm were gone it was logical that any movements the spell detected would in fact be Neville’s. Giving one last look to the sleeping boy, grinning in amusement, over the past six years he had gotten used to the boy’s snoring. Between Ron and Neville it was like a bloody duet, Ron was definitely louder though and more irritating, he spoke in his sleep as well. 

Slipping from the room making sure to be as quiet as possible, leaving the door ajar to give the appearance of him just ‘going to the toilet’ if he woke up. He trusted Neville and Luna, he really did, but he couldn’t risk it, his behaviour towards his dad would change and it was more telling than being able to read someone’s mind. It took him a great deal of acting just to stop suspicion arousing, but at least he had experience, Neville didn’t although he was good at keeping quiet about things. Not many knew about Neville’s parents, which was surprising really, they were one of the two most popular Auror’s in the force according to Mad Eye Moody. 

“What are you doing up?” asked Hermione, staring at Harry from the corner of the room, as always she was surrounded by parchment and books around the table. Her brown eyes were filled with hope and sadness; she missed her friendship with Harry a great deal. She hadn’t expected him to desert her like this; he’d always forgiven them before. She understood why he didn’t forgive Ron; he’d messed up before but not her. She was rather envious of Luna and Neville; it should be her helping Harry not them. 

“You lost the right to ask me that a long time ago.” stated Harry coldly, damn it, why of all people did it have to be her? He should have checked the map, at least then he would have been prepared for it. She would know if he came back down with his cloak, she knew from experience what it meant when things moved by themselves. Deciding to ignore her, he continued on opening the door and leaving the common room, half surprised that she didn’t say anything. It definitely wasn’t Granger like behaviour; still he would watch his back just to be sure. 

Harry unfolded the map, spreading it out as he muttered the password to open it, watching the dots of people curiously, even after all these years he was still in awe of this map. It was foolproof, a lesson he’d learned the hard way after only having it around six months if he was lucky. His dad was in his quarters, not his lab which was unusual as of late, he was up to something and he wasn’t sure what. Although he intended to ask tonight, shrugging his shoulders, he made his way down to the dungeons, going slow this time so he didn’t end up exhausted as he had earlier. He still ached from that run, his muscles were strained, and he really had to keep up his running again, before he got totally out of shape. Dumbledore was pacing in his office, Slughorn was doing the same in his, he wondered what their fight was about…too bad he hadn’t thought to use Fred and George’s extendable ears, now those were handy inventions. He was glad he gave his winnings to them; at least they were happy doing what they liked. 

“Hi,” said Harry as he wandered into the rooms, properly relaxing for the first time in the past few days. Slumping into the seat, he was still tired, but he wanted to know what his dad wanted more than sleep. He had always been too curious for his own good, if he was an Animagus, he’d bet it was a cat. Not only was he overly curious but he seemed to have more than one life, just like the little felines. Added to the fact he hated dogs, but mostly because of Ripper, Marge’s dog, he’d bitten him and chased him up a tree when he was younger. The Dursley’s had just laughed, and left him there, glad to get him out of their hair for a while, Merlin how he hated them. 

“Good evening,” said Severus wryly, watching him curiously, he had been down to the rooms while he was away from them earlier today, he wanted to know why. He didn’t normally come down unless he was asked, so he was up to something. Keeping Harry safe had been the hardest thing he’d had to do, now it was slightly easier if not more nerve racking knowing just how cunning his son could be. “Were you looking for me earlier?” enquired Severus, knowing the answer was ‘no’ but ever the Slytherin not asking outright. 

“I was just down to get some newspaper clippings I left the last time I was here,” said Harry shaking his head, “Although somehow you already suspected that didn’t you?” a sly smirk making its way onto his face. He had nothing to hide here; his dad knew him better than anyone else and always would. 

“Newspaper clippings? It was my understanding you’d already gone through them all and found nothing.” stated Severus, a small frown on his face as he thoughtfully thought back to the past few weeks. Had he figured it out? If so he truly was brilliant at research, perhaps because he checked in the most obvious places. He had been the one to find out about the Horcruxes, and figured out that he himself was one. Harry was smarter than anyone knew, but at least he didn’t have to sit back as Harry’s grades suffered badly because of his secretive nature. No, Harry had begun doing extremely well at his work; he had deserved the broomstick he’d given him. Other than for flying whenever he liked, it didn’t get used in a more competitive manner, such as Quidditch since Harry hadn’t returned to the team despite everyone’s hope he would. No they’d turned on Harry one to many times, it had to have happened at some point. Even a dog took only so much before he’d bite back. Unfortunately he didn’t have as much free time as Harry, to search for anything, between teaching, Dark Lord’s, Dumbledore and Potions he was stretched too thin. 

“I missed it,” confessed Harry grudgingly, and it irked him something rotten. “It was staring me in the face, but I didn’t spot it.” 

“Then you know where the wand is?” asked Severus cautiously. 

“It’s been under our noses the entire time,” said Harry wryly, passing over two pieces of copied newspaper clippings, before a yawn forced its way out of his mouth. Curling into the seat, slipping his shoes off as the fire warmed him up, keeping an eye on his dad’s reactions - he didn’t get to see him show much emotion so each time he could it was always fun. 

Severus accepted them; arching a curious eyebrow Harry thought Dumbledore had it? His eyes looked over it cursory before staring at the other one. He didn’t see what Harry was going on about, but knowing it was there had him searching both of them as if trying to spot the difference. The wands were the two common denominators in the newspapers. Well other than Dumbledore, but considering Harry said he found out who had the wand…it was an obvious conclusion to reach. Then he saw it for himself, the differences, and quickly reached the same conclusion Harry had before him. “Grindelwald,” whispered Severus feeling so very foolish, the timing was impeccable when you thought about it. 

“Yeah, Neville’s Gran told us about how in the old days if you defeated your opponent the wand was rightfully yours, why isn’t that taught anymore?” asked Harry curiously. 

“The practise has long ago ceased, a lot of the old ways have been. I’ll give you a book to read about it, some of its rather fascinating if I’m honest.” said Severus, so much had indeed been lost and forgotten over the years. Traditions stopped because of the influx of Muggle Born’s to their society, well people blamed them, truth be told it was more to do with others like Dumbledore and the Ministers they had, telling them what was wrong, bad, evil, versus good and light and right. Since Azkaban’s inception it was easier to control people with fear of the island. Of course there was always those who rebelled, but that was the way of life. 

“It must be,” whispered Harry grinning half heartedly, “To have received high praise from the Severus Snape.” 

“Droll,” said Severus, Harry was exhausted; he looked ready to sleep any given moment. Severus stood up, moving towards the roaring fireplace, letting it warm him for a few seconds before he placed the paper in it, it was quickly and efficiently reduced to ash leaving nothing behind to identify. He was cautious for good reason, and it kept him alive. 

“What are you up to?” asked Harry in turn facing his father and the fire getting an ache in his neck in the process. “What potion are you working on that’s taking up so much of your time?” he wondered mostly out loud. 

“You’ll find out soon enough, go back up to your dorm before anyone finds out you aren’t there.” said Severus. 

“Don’t you trust me?” asked Harry, staring at Severus with hurt shining through his green eyes. 

“Don’t pull those stunts with me, Harry. You forget I know you all too well, you play very good for your age but I have been at this a lot longer.” replied Severus dryly; he was just digging for information using any means necessary. 

Harry scowled not even bothering to look sheepish, oh well he had tried but it seemed as if his dad still wasn’t in a sharing mood. “Come on, at least give me a clue? You are working on one potion, there’s only one laid up in there, not many turn that hue of blue.” said Harry, grinning, although there had been no potion ingredient out so he couldn’t even make an accurate guess. He wasn’t a Potions Master after all, even though he was good with sleeping potions and such, whatever that potion was - he hadn’t brewed it yet. 

“Harry,” sighed Severus exasperated beyond words, his eyes narrowing in on the not so innocent boy sitting on his seat demanding answers. He’d created a monster who observed his surroundings, or more accurately he’d brought out the monster that lurked under the surface. He knew that if he wanted to, he would find it out; he’d proven that time and time again. So did he tell him and satisfy his curiosity or see if he could solve the mystery. 

“Blue hue means some sort of sleeping potion, although neither the sleeping draught or the Dreamless Sleeping Potion ever go quiet that colour.” said Harry, thoughtfully, eyeing his father curiously, he was rather looking forward to the next challenge that was presented to him. 

“Indeed,” smirked Severus, Harry’s green eyes were twinkling, he like the trill of this. 

“There’s only one other potion that could fit in that column, but the seventh years make that…why are you brewing it yourself when there’s plenty to go around?” asked Harry, finally figuring it out. Draught of the living death, it sends the drinker into a slumber that would and could be mistaken for being dead and it could last indefinitely. Why would he be making it? It made no logical sense to him. “Are you giving it to Narcissa Malfoy?” he asked doubtfully, it would the most sense but was by no means airtight. 

“No,” replied Severus impressed with his quick thinking. Harry would have definitely got passed his potions logic puzzle in first year if he'd applied himself, oh and if Granger hadn't been quick to take the challenge upon to herself. 

“Draco Malfoy?” he asked even more doubtfully. 

Severus shook his head before he retook his seat, it seemed as though Harry was pretty wide awake now, even though he should be in his dorm. 

Harry’s mind whirled in confusion, what else could there be? Or rather who else could their be? Was he just jumping to the wrong conclusion and the potion wasn’t going to be used? No, that wasn’t it, Severus didn’t do things without a purpose, and he just couldn’t see what the purpose was right now. Unless…he wouldn’t….would he? No, that was just insanity; it would never work…would it? “Dumbledore? You’re going to feed the potion to Dumbledore?” 

“Yes, it’s the only way to succeed, but the potion is going to be altered slightly, it needs to be activated at the right moment.” said Severus, only the original potion didn’t work like that, hence why he had to change it. One of the Dursley’s was finally going to come in handy. He would be testing it out on one of them, since they were human not rats, it would work the same way it would if they weren’t transfigured. He was praying it would work; he didn’t have a lot of time to adjust it if it didn’t work. It took a month to brew, the one he was creating would take one month two weeks, it would be ready by the end of January, and it would be February before he could test the results accurately. Perhaps it would be best to think of an alternative now just in case, certainly wouldn’t hurt. At least then he would be able to test another if the first failed, but to him failure wasn’t an option. Not with something as important as this, it’s why he’d been giving it his utmost concentration. 

“He’s going to be fucking pissed,” said Harry his lip twitching at the prospect of getting one over Dumbledore. 

“It is the only way.” Severus reminded him. 

“I didn’t say I was against the plan,” replied Harry quietly, he was bone aching tired. 

“Indeed not,” said Severus conceding the point. 

“What are we going to do about the other Horcruxes?” asked Harry, “I mean Gringotts? I know Quirrelmort got in but how the hell would we?” 

“We? Aren’t doing anything, at least not right now…not until we have to.” said Severus, he was putting off thinking about it really. The only way they could accomplish this, in his opinion was to break into Gringotts. The second they did Bellatrix would have to tell the Dark Lord and he would know someone knew about his Horcruxes. Then there was the possibility of him making more, that they wouldn’t be able to find or destroy. The timing had to be absolutely right, just like this did otherwise hell would descend upon them in the form of the Dark Lord.

“Timing?” asked Harry. 

Severus nodded curtly. “Timing.” it was everything, especially with the last two, kill Nagini he would still figure it out…and he never let that animal out of his sight for it to just ‘leave and never come back’ or just too busy hunting. It was just pure luck on their part the rest of the Horcruxes had been dealt with - without the Dark Lord any the wiser. Although if he grew suspicious and actually checked on them well the game was up too. “Now get up those stairs, go to bed.” he added more firmly than last time. 

“Oh, all right,” murmured Harry, too tired to argue anymore anyway. He could do with some sleep, a lot of sleep actually…he just hoped Granger hadn’t said anything. He wouldn’t put it past her to just go straight to Dumbledore with tales of how he was gone from the common room past curfew. 

“Before you go, take this. Keep it on you at all times. Nobody else will be able to see it; it’s a Portkey, keyed into your magical signature. Although others can come should you wish it, it will act accordingly if anyone is trying to hop in on your Portkey.” said Severus, handing over the chain. 

“Does it have an activation word?” asked Harry curiously, placing it firmly around his neck taking Severus’ words to heart. 

“Yes, the activation word is home, and that’s exactly where it will take you.” said Severus seriously. He had one similar around his own neck, dark times were coming and he’d be a fool not to take every precaution necessarily to ensure their survival. 

“Did you give Malfoy one?” asked Harry enquiringly, as always able to hide his jealousy. 

“No, and under no circumstances is he to be made aware of what is happening is that understood? He must think what he sees that night truly happened. The Dark Lord will reach into his thoughts and get through everything without pausing.” said Severus warningly, he loved his godson, and he really did. Unfortunately he was a Slytherin, and he’d been raised by Lucius Malfoy getting his own way all the time, and regretfully he was a boy who would give up anyone to get his own way. He could only hope that the Dark Lord didn’t dig too deep and find out that his godson knew about his true identity or everything they were doing to help him would be moot. Draco was just angry at the thought of following a Half-blood, after all he'd been weaned on the fact he was superior to them all being a pureblood. Yes even him, when all was said and done. 

Harry had to stop the grin from splitting his face in two, he was inordinately smug that Draco Malfoy wasn’t trusted enough to be told. It was childish he knew, but he always felt on edge around Malfoy. Not just because they were school boy rivals, some would claim they were enemies but Harry had bigger people after his life to think about calling Malfoy his enemy. He liked him even less lately; especially with how close he was with his dad, although that thought might not be accurate. So Malfoy was going to think he was killing Dumbledore? That made no sense…Malfoy as much as he was an idiot and bully didn’t have the guts to kill anyone or anything. 

“You think Malfoy could kill Dumbledore? I mean really do it?” asked Harry, a frowning marring his head, he’d seen how desperate the boy was at finding a solution to help him. 

“Thankfully, no. I don’t think he has it in him to murder anyone.” said Severus. 

“Are you out of your mind?!” shouted Harry, standing up looking horrified and shocked to the core. Oh he understood what his dad wasn’t saying! That he would be the one to cast the curse that supposedly ended Dumbledore’s life. Which was all well and good but it didn’t help if they killed him before the ruse could be blown wide open. “You can’t do that; you won’t live to see next year if you do! He’s too damn popular! They’ll be out for blood…as brilliant as you are at defending yourself - it’ll be too much!” 

“Calm down,” said Severus sternly, “I can look after myself you need not worry, my reputation will ensure nobody will try anything.”

“If anything happens before this is over, I’ll bring you back just so I can do it myself!” said Harry, before he walked out of the room without looking back. 

Severus watched him go, his black eyes piercing, he hadn’t made any promises, because even he knew it would be more of a platitude. In war there was no guarantee, added to the fact he was a spy made his survival less than thirty percent possible, if that. All he could do was try and reassure Harry that he would do his best. He hadn’t lied to Harry and he wasn’t about to start now, no matter how much it upset him. It obviously did, he’d known his reaction wouldn’t be positive to say the least. Sighing softly, wondering how long Harry would remain in a huff, hopefully not long because he had a training lesson, if he could call it that anymore, Harry had surpassed anything he could teach him. That surely would help with any issues he had, he didn’t like the prospect any better, but at least he’d have Dumbledore out of the way, and surviving the damn war. If they both heaven forbid died well…Minerva would be left clues as to what had really gone down. Hopefully his training would be enough for Harry to survive, it had to be, he’d sworn to keep Harry alive to protect him…for Lily and that’s what he would do. His new will was already lodged at Gringotts, most of his belongings and things were to go to Harry if he survived, a small amount was going to his godson. If Harry died well Draco would receive it all, but he rather hoped it wouldn’t happen. He’d also left a letter for Harry should the worst happen so he knew how proud he was of him. 

Harry stomped up the stairs, not caring who saw him right now, he was furious. He was going to risk his life for that ungrateful sod! Merlin that just enraged him he half hoped Malfoy cast the curse himself. His dad’s position was dangerous as it was without adding him supposedly the killer of Dumbledore as well. Voldemort was terrified of Dumbledore to some extent! What would his reaction be to hearing that Severus had killed him? Would he kill Severus out of fear? Or elevate him to a higher position? He didn’t know which he preferred. If he did elevate him he would have jealous Death Eaters after him as well as everyone who remotely liked Dumbledore to a certain extent. 

Sighing softly, he slid into his bed once again; Neville hadn’t woken up at all. Biting his lip, he shouldn’t have reacted like that; he knew his dad was only doing what he thought was best. He just didn’t want anything bad to happen to him, off all the people he had to come to love as a father figure it was him, Merlin they’d both be lucky if they survived. If they did he promised himself he would tell Severus what he thought of him, and how grateful he was that he’d been kind and treated him like a son and trained him. He didn’t care if the man didn’t feel the same way, it was a promise he vowed to keep.   
He just prayed he had that chance.


	61. Chapter 61

A New Place To Stay 

Chapter 61 

A New Variation Of Draught Of The Living Death

Severus smirked wryly, rolling his eyes as he remembered his first time brewing this particular potion. He had been sixteen years old, and in his sixth year here, at Hogwarts. Every other idiot in his class had chosen to follow the directions in the book. He had long ago learned better and more effective ways to brew the potions. Not just improve them a little, but to actually make them better. It’s what he’d done during the holidays, as he waited impatiently to get back to Hogwarts. To get away from his parents, who he regretfully had to spend the summer with. Shaking off his disturbing thoughts, he rarely dwelled on his childhood, even the memories commingled with that of Lily. 

Watching the time, which seemed to him like it was standing still, but really that wasn’t the case since the clock was still ticking quietly on his wrist. Watching intently praying it would work, he had a back up of course, but he wasn’t as confident about that batch as he was with his first one. Euphoria shot through him when the potion turned clear, not only had he altered it (he hoped) but it retained its original appearance, a colourless odour that not even Dumbledore would be able to detect in his food. 

“Perfect,” murmured Severus in supreme satisfaction, nothing absolutely nothing could give him a rush like this. 

“Can Dobby help Master Severus?” asked Dobby appearing in the lab, looking eager to help despite the fact it was the middle of the night. 

“Very well, bottle the potion into the vials,” said Severus, already beginning to do that himself. He only really needed one, and then he would head over to his home and test it. It wasn’t as if he could do it here, since Dumbledore would detect the powerful curse being cast. 

Dobby’s eyes widened, he was being trusted with Master Severus’ potion? It almost made him burst into tears. He barely stopped himself brawling, knowing his Master Severus didn’t like emotion being displayed so openly. Getting himself together, he climbed onto the stool and began helping. 

“You know where to put it, Dobby.” stated Severus, grabbing the one potion he needed before slipping out of his lab a single destination in mind. Sliding into the fireplace, he threw the powder he collected from the ceramic pot on the side of the fire for such occasions as this. He didn’t make a habit of leaving Hogwarts in the middle of the night, however, if he was to do this, now was the appropriate time. 

Stepping out his feet firmly planted in Prince Manor, his masks dropping as he allowed himself to relax. No portrait eyes to track his every move; no need to wonder if somehow, someway someone was going to enter his Quarters at Hogwarts uninvited. He trusted it even less after Minerva had succeeded in gaining entrance to his home without his permission. The only consolation was the fact she hadn’t tattled on them, he didn’t even dare think of what she assumed about his and Harry’s relationship. It was enough to make him want to vomit on and off for years just thinking about it. He had been in love with the child’s mother for god sake, and he thought of Harry as a son. 

Thinking about Harry, made him dwell on what happened over a month ago. Harry had been furious to hear about his plan; since he hadn’t minded until it was revealed he would be doing the ‘killing’ it spoke volumes. He shouldn’t have been surprised at how attached Harry was. He’d never had a stable home life, or anyone that cared about him. Harry’s anger at the situation really did state more than Harry could reveal. Harry hadn’t been able to continue to be angry, he still let his objections be known but he didn’t go in a huff every time it was brought up. Mostly because he knew he wouldn’t win, he had also mentioned how Gryffindor it was, which of course riled Harry more until he deflated. 

Severus headed straight for his Potions lab, the one that had been fitted to his preferences. The one in his private quarters was adequate enough, but it didn’t have his stamp on it like the one here did. There was also one other thing this lab had that Hogwarts did not. Petunia and Vernon Dursley permanently bound in rat form, unable to even think of changing back. Harry would never find out what he done, for he knew if he did, he wouldn’t want it to continue. Despite the fact he was Slytherin to the core, and quite possibly hated their guts…the part Dumbledore had instilled in Harry, his righteous feeling of right and wrong would prevail. 

They started squealing as soon as he entered the room properly. The oil lamps flared in the darkened room, the reason he ensured they were in constant darkness and confinement was because they had done it to Harry. They’d locked their own nephew in a cupboard. Severus hummed as he stared at them, he could no longer tell them apart, they were both thin. The Elves had been feeding them, just enough to survive. Oh revenge was truly sweet, as rats nobody would look twice either. 

He was under no circumstances lifting their tails to see under them, which was one of the easiest ways to tell a male rat from a female. Well once they reach four weeks of age, they really began to show, the males anyway. Without care, he pointed his wand at one and stunned it. Snagging the glove he always used dealing with them, they hadn’t bathed in years after all, disgusting cretins. Lifting it by the tail, he put on the table, as he closed the cage preventing the other from escaping, not that it would get far. 

Moving off to his side, he opened the drawer and removed the small dropper from within it. Closing it behind him, he uncorked the newly brewed potion, pleased it had cooled down considerably. Although why he was pleased he didn’t know, the Dursley’s had brought this upon themselves. As much as he wished he could just off them, he did actually want this potion to work. His entire plan rested heavily upon it, it was February and the school only had four months left. There was little doubt something would happen at the end of the year, it was not only inevitable at this point but boringly predictable. This year was more severe, dangerous than the other years, how could it not be? The Dark Lord was trying to remove his opposition, also known as Dumbledore. Still too terrified to do it himself, he’d entrapped his godson, just because his father had screwed up. Not only with the Prophecy and getting caught, but because of the Horcrux he had put in the female Weasley’s hands. 

Once the potion was sucked into the dropper, Severus was tasked with the disgusting chore of getting it down one of the rat’s gullets. Thankfully with the dropper, Severus was able to squirt it down the rat’s throat without choking it too much. It would probably have a sore throat but with everything that was going to happen, it would be the least of its worries. Unfortunately with the animal facing him he now knew it to be Vernon Dursley, especially if its testicles were anything to go by. 

“Enervate!” said Severus, flicking his wand out. Watching closely as the rat awoke, only to begin struggling to breathe. Then just like that, instead of a slow work up to an enchanted sleep it worked almost immediately. The rat lay there motionless. “Well here goes.” muttered Severus taking a step back, his wand still out. 

“Avada Kedavra!” chanted Severus; the green spell illuminated the room giving it an eerie glow. It lasted a matter of seconds until it hit the target before disappearing as if it hadn’t been there. The rat was still stiff as a board, no changes to it at all, but there never were with the killing curse. Less than two seconds it took for it to activate, this was good, which meant he could spell the potion into him, but he would have to be extremely quickly in casting the killing curse afterwards. If this worked of course, if not he wasn’t sure what he could do. He wasn’t counting his chickens, but he hoped it would be a success. 

Taking a deep breath, anxious but not wishing to be. His black eyes kept a watch on the rat, as he removed another potion from his pocket. If he wasn’t such a composed man, he would have crossed his fingers in some absurd fashion. He’d seen the children at Hogwarts do it, as if such a thing could change the outcome. Grabbing another dropper he filled it and once again fed it with ease, to the rat. 

This was the bit he was unsure about; did the trick of the potion stopping the heart confuse the killing curse enough to make it harmless? He didn’t know he would have to endure the wait to see if it was the case. Wakening up from the enchanted slumber was much different than going into it. There was also the worry that the rat hadn’t ingested enough of the potion to wake him up as well. Blinking he stared intently at the rat, had it been his imagination or had its foot twitched? Breathing evenly, his lips twisted in triumph as the both front ‘paws’ or ‘feet’ depending on what you chose to call them, twitched twice each in tandem. He’d done it; he could do this without ruining his life! Although part of him was tempted to leave Dumbledore like that forever.

He hadn’t forgiven Dumbledore for his actions, or perhaps in this case it could be termed inactions. He’d spoken the bare minimum to his employer; he’d seen the confusion in the Headmaster’s eyes. It was genuine, probably the only real emotion to pass the wizards face in a long time. If he survived this war, which was admittedly extremely low, he would make sure Dumbledore understood exactly why he was furious. He doubted Dumbledore would care, he’d try and throw the fact Harry had won (if he did) but him and Dumbledore being alive would only happen in such a case. 

He’d done it! It had worked, he thought in triumph as he grabbed the rat by the tail and flung it back in the cage to avoid being scratched or bitten by the disgusting thing. “You should have known better than to mess with wizards, Petunia. You’ve brought all this on yourself, you knew, you knew what Harry would be able to do one day. Instead of cherishing him you chose to abuse him, you should just be glad I’m no longer really a Death Eater - or I would have shown you what the Dark Lord does to your kind.” Severus said grimly, ignoring the squeaking and twittering he banished the remains of the potion vials. Nodding in satisfaction, suppressing a yawn, he made his way silently through the manor and slipped into the Floo Network and made his way unseen back to Hogwarts. 

Severus didn’t even bother removing his clothes, or turning down the bed, he just fell on it and was sound asleep within seconds. His body was simply put exhausted, he’d been pulling crazy hours. Which left him getting only two hours sleep if he was lucky, thankfully with his success he would be able to get his body’s the required hours of sleep. Well starting tomorrow, since it was already half way through the night. In less than five hours he would be up and teaching ingrates how to defend themselves.


	62. Fake Horcruxes, Death Eaters and Dumbledore's Death

A New Place To Stay 

Chapter 62 

Fake Horcruxes, Death Eaters and Dumbledore's Death

 

Harry looked around the cave he was in, slightly confused, why would Dumbledore think there was a Horcrux here? It literally made no sense; he had been so sure that there were only two others left out there. One in Gringotts, in Bellatrix Lestranges vault or rather the Black vaults since she probably got it before she married her stinking Death Eater husband. He still wasn't sure how to get it, but the best he could do was try, no he had to succeed otherwise Voldemort could just come back. Then there was Nagini, probably the most lethal of Horcruxes best left for last. Stepping out of the boat, he idly looked at the water, squinting, before shaking his head; he could have sworn he saw something down there.

Shivering in cold, Harry tried to keep himself warm by moving constantly trying to keep the blood flowing through his body. They'd both jumped into the water, as much as he hated Dumbledore sometimes; it had been a sight indeed to see such an old man jumping down off a rock. His white hair going everywhere, but he'd swam perfectly, despite how damn bloody cold it was and harsh. It was a good job his dad had kept him fit otherwise he would have been dragged under he was sure. As it stood he'd had no problem keeping up with Dumbledore, in fact he would have overtaken him if he knew where they were going. Which of course he did not, Dumbledore had just demanded he come, trying to force him to do whatever the old fool wanted.

It was also a good thing his dad had told him about hearing the prophecy; he could only imagine the feeling of betrayal that would have coursed through him. When Trelawney had told him how 'rude' Severus was the night of her interview. Instead of betrayal he had felt slightly amused at someone calling his dad rude, which he was admittedly but he didn't do it in a way that left you realizing you've been insulted at least not right away. No you'd be left standing there wondering if you had been insulted or complimented. He was very good at things like that; it was hilarious to watch when it wasn't him.

"Yes, this is the place." stated Albus firmly.

Harry didn't have to ask why he would assume that, Harry could feel the magic thrumming in the cave. Shivering again, Harry muttered under his breath and suddenly his clothes and him were dry and warm. Sighing in relief, glad that the bloody coldness was no longer penetrating his bones.

"This is merely an ante-chamber, the entrance hall," explained Dumbledore, "We need to penetrate the inner place…with things guarded by Lord Voldemort instead of those made by nature."

Harry barely listened or watched Dumbledore wander around the cave, touching the wall muttering under his breath. He was still worried, had they missed out on Horcruxes? If so how many more had they accidentally left out? He wished they would hurry up and get it over with; he wanted to speak to his dad. If this did turn out to be another Horcrux then they were in trouble.

"Here," said Dumbledore, "We go on through here. The entrance is concealed."

Harry rolled his eyes; it seemed Albus Dumbledore liked to hear himself talk just as much as Voldemort did. Twitching when he heard the word 'crude' he stared at Dumbledore oddly. He'd never heard him speak like that before, what was crude? Frowning when Dumbledore removed a knife from his pocket, now why the hell would he carry a knife around with him? Its something he expected from his dad, but he was a Potions Master he carried more than just a knife around with him all the time. He cut his forearm and the blood spurted out splattering against the rock. After a few seconds the rock disappeared leaving nothing but darkness within the opening.

"Follow me, Harry." said Dumbledore, lightening his wand as they both entered. They found themselves at the edge pretty quick, it looked like the Great Lake at Hogwarts, with one exception - there was a large glow of green emerging from the middle of the waters - or what he assumed was the middle. Even with his wand lit he could see nothing but blackness.

"Let us walk," said Dumbledore quietly, but he needed have shouted since the sound seemed to expand regardless. "Be very careful not to step into the water. Stay close to me."

They walked for what seemed like forever, Harry wanted to go back, and there was something about this place. It was giving him the creeps, and his dad always said never to ignore his gut that it was more than likely right. His magic was warning him against being here, and Dumbledore was bound to feel the same. The only thing making him continue on was the fact they could have missed a bloody Horcrux.

"You are unusually quiet, Harry…very unlike you," said Albus quietly as they continued on. He had expected dozens of questions by this time. Yet he was too quiet, and Albus didn't know what to make of it, or the changes the boy had gone through. Without him talking to Sirius as often, he was at sea, figuratively of course, he didn't know what was bothering the teen.

"I have nothing to say," replied Harry honestly, he hated these times, when Dumbledore genuinely seemed to care. Maybe he did in his own way, but nothing could help Harry forgive Dumbledore for leaving him to sacrifice himself for the 'greater good'. His dad had found a way to remove the Horcrux; shouldn't Dumbledore have been able to do the same thing? He wasn't under any illusions that Dumbledore didn't know, he'd told his dad that he had to die to defeat Voldemort.

"Are you sure? I will be more than happy to answer any questions you have, my boy!" said Dumbledore, as a thick coppery green chain appeared out of thin air. He tapped his wand and the chain began moving towards Dumbledore with it a boat began to ripple towards them towards the bank where they both stood.

"I'm fine," stated Harry, gritting his teeth, stopping himself from saying things he definitely wouldn't regret. "That doesn't look like it will take two people." he said doubtfully, eyeing the boat that looked as if one step into it would cause it to sink.

"Voldemort won't have cared about weight, but about the amount of magical power that crossed his lake. I rather think an enchantment will have been placed upon this boat so that only one wizard at a time will be able to sail in it." said Albus confidently, he had taught Tom Riddle, and he knew him.

"So one at a time then," stated Harry, inwardly cursing himself for going along with this madness. There was obviously something in the water that he couldn't see. He was dreading this, but what could he do? The Horcrux was more important.

"You do not count Harry, since you are underage, Voldemort will never have expected a sixteen-year-old to find his cave." said Dumbledore reassuringly. "Be careful not to touch the water."

Harry nodded; he had no bloody intentions of touching or going in the water. Something was under there and he wasn't about to try and find out what it was. He knew whatever it was it couldn't be good, it was Voldemort they were talking about after all.

"Step in Harry," said Dumbledore urged, before stepping in behind him.

Harry sat stiffly, not liking Dumbledore at his back; he didn't trust him not anymore. Which hurt slightly, as he remembered the warm feeling from first year when the Headmaster paid special attention to him. So starved for attention he had taken it, he should have realized. He knew now though, that was the main thing, and he had someone else paying attention to him. Someone who cared enough to make sure he had lots to eat, his exam scores were up to standard and someone who gave him presents for doing well. He knew now what it was like to have a dad, and if he didn't survive the war he could content himself with the knowledge he understood love and that he'd been loved.

Harry stiffened in horror when something jumped out of the water, he didn't need further confirmation to what they were. Severus had shown him what they were, how to defend himself against them - Inferi. Dead bodies in the water, to think Voldemort was capable of that at the age of eighteen or something was bloody scary. He knew, deep down that there must be a Horcrux there now. Why protect that one so viciously and leave the others all but unprotected? Well other than the ring? Had he become so insane by then that he felt nobody would discover them? As soon as they lifted the Horcrux he knew things were going to get nasty. This caused Harry to clutch his wand closely, his heartbeat rushing through his chest erratically.

"We are nearly there!" said Albus, watching the green glow becoming more and more prominent.

Harry gazed at the stone basin, thanks to the fact he'd had his eyesight corrected he could see it perfectly. It reminded him of a pensive, sitting atop of a pedestal still sickly green in colour. He realized it had to be some sort of potion, something was niggling at the back of his mind. The cave…the potion…then it dawned on him like a tidal wave. What a stupid fool he'd been! How could he have forgotten about that so recklessly?!

His mind flashed back to the memory.

"Kreacher where did Regulus Black get this?" asked Severus.

"I don't know," said Kreacher. "Regulus was told by the Dark Lord that he needed a house elf. Regulus told me to go, he also told Kreacher to come back. The Dark Lord took me out to this cave, forced me to drink poison, the Dark Lord left Kreacher there to die. Regulus had ordered Kreacher to return so I did what my master bid." 

"I'm so sorry Kreacher, is that why Regulus died?" asked Harry.

"No, Master Regulus wanted me to take him to the cave," sobbed Kreacher. "He forced poor Kreacher to feed him the potion, forced him to take the Horcrux and replace it with a fake. Then he ordered poor Kreacher to leave him there, Kreacher couldn't tell anyone not even Mistress who never knew what happened to her poor…poor son."

"What kind of potion?" asked Harry mystified.

Severus looked pale and shaken, "Trust me you do not want to know, its one that must be consumed to get to the contents at the bottom. If you throw it in the water or anywhere really it would appear right back in the bowl. It's a slow acting, poison, that completely drives them insane before they meet their end."

"Did you create it?" asked Harry surprised.

"I did, Regulus joined after me, he was a year younger but he was well on his way to the inner circle." said Severus.

"Remind me not to get on your bad side," Harry stated dryly. 

'Shit, shit, shit, shit' thought Harry wild eyed, wondering what the fuck to do now. There was no Horcrux here; Dumbledore was coming here to find something that was long gone. Regulus Black had scarified himself to get the bloody damn Horcrux. It was a fake and that Potion would kill Dumbledore if he consumed it…he doubted very much the old fool would force him to drink it. It was nothing to do with ego, but he knew Dumbledore needed him to defeat Voldemort. At least there wasn't another Horcrux out there, that part he was extremely relieved about.

"You really think there's a Horcrux in there, sir?" asked Harry putting as much doubt into his voice as possible. His mind running a mile a minute on how to get them out of there. As much as he hated Dumbledore he didn't want to see him die, at least not really. He wasn't sure how he could get Dumbledore to leave without telling him everything. Which really wasn't an option; he couldn't tell Dumbledore the truth. No it was more to do with the fact he didn't want to. Dumbledore had to believe Harry had only ever done what he was told, at least until the war was over and by then he might be dead - if he survived well he would relish in telling Dumbledore everything.

"Oh yes," said Dumbledore without doubt. "But how to reach it? This potion cannot be penetrated by hand. Vanished, parted, scooped up or siphoned away, nor can it be Transfigured, Charmed or otherwise made to change its nature."

Harry pursed his lips; did Dumbledore even know the wizard he trusted with his life had created it? That his dad had created it during his Death Eater days? He doubted it but it was one hell of an accomplishment, it went to prove just how powerful Severus Snape truly was. He couldn't let Dumbledore drink that potion, and his panic was becoming more severe as Dumbledore conjured a goblet to what one could only assume was to drink it.

Harry closed his eyes tightly, remembering how his dad had taught him the spell non-verbally. It was one of those spells that had taken him the longest to successfully cast. Even his dad said he found it difficult to cast, and it should only be done if he had enough time and energy to expand to do it. Which he did have, so he had to try but he wasn't sure if it would work against Dumbledore. 'Confundo' thought Harry desperately, sending it at Dumbledore's back and it hit its target. Making him think he already had the Horcrux and that they had to go back now.

"Come Harry," said Dumbledore, urgently, looking around as if expecting something to come at them any second. Herding them back into the boat and launching them back across the other side of the island. He quickly put nothing into his cloak pocket, no doubt thinking it was the Horcrux he was confounded into believing he had already retrieved. Harry wasn't sure what would happen when he realized what he'd done but it was the best he could do for now.

Jumping from the boat, Dumbledore quickly followed. This time instead of getting soaking wet again, jumping into the water, Dumbledore grabbed him and both of them Apparated to Hogsmeade again. Then Harry saw something that caused his heart to leap into his throat. The Dark Mark was hovering in the sky, his heart hurt and worry made him dizzy. Neville! Luna! He didn't have to worry about Severus he would be fine as long as his cover remained intact.

"We need to return to the castle at once," said Dumbledore, "Accio broomsticks! Now Harry put your cloak on!"

Madam Rosmerta made her way to them, looking worried having noticed the Dark Mark above the school.

"How long has it been there?" asked Albus as soon as he saw the Witch.

"A few minutes, I only noticed it when I went to retrieve my cat," confessed the flustered Witch.

"Contract the Ministry, just in case nobody at Hogwarts has realized what is going on yet." said Albus before mounting the broomstick he'd summoned.

"Of course," she said before scuttling off terrified, hopefully to do Dumbledore's bidding.

Harry mounted the broom, as Dumbledore did the same; Harry however, swiftly put his cloak on covering himself. Running on adrenaline as he had been since discovering the fact Dumbledore was after a fake Horcrux. They began flying towards the school, no not the school; Dumbledore was directing them to the Astronomy tower - where the Dark Mark itself had been cast. What was he thinking? There could be Death Eaters up there! Watching them coming ready to kill them.

Both of them landed, Harry throwing the broom to the side, nobody was up here…so why cast the spell? He had to go and find Neville and Luna and make sure they were alright. He didn't know how many Death Eaters were in the castle right now. Automatically his hand clutched at the pendant hidden from view and spelled invisible. It was a Portkey it would get him and his friends to safety if the worst happened. He wouldn't leave the others though, as much as he hated them from time to time he couldn't ignore the fact they were in danger.

He was about to move when he suddenly froze and it wasn't because the door had just been blasted open. He was stuck under the cloak, frozen in place unable to talk - there was only one person that could have done that - Dumbledore. Growling under his breath, he concentrated on his magic, trying to undo the work Dumbledore had - which would take time. He couldn't believe Dumbledore had just left him defenceless like this! One wrong spell would see the end of him.

"Good evening, Draco." said Dumbledore genially as if the mark wasn't hovering ominously in the sky. His wand was hanging loose in his hand as if he would never raise it against a student.

"Don't move I've got back-up. There are Death Eaters here in the school." said Draco, watching him his face twisted.

"Ah, you found a way to let them in did you?" said Dumbledore as if praising the young boy.

"Yes, right under your nose without you any the wiser!" snapped Draco, trying to sound smug but really he looked pained.

"And where are they now? You seem quite unsupported." said Dumbledore, fishing for information Harry realized.

"They won't be long, they're fighting down the stairs, but I have a job to do!" said Draco, steeling himself for what was to come.

"Well then, you must get on and do it, my dear boy." said Dumbledore, aware of Draco's task. "You are no murderer, Draco."

"How do you know?" cried Draco sounding like a spoiled petulant child, it didn't help that Dumbledore was bloody smiling at him. Flushing darkly he continued his speech, "You don't know what I'm capable of, you don't know what I've done!"

"Oh, yes, I do," said Dumbledore. "You almost killed Katie Bell and Ronald Weasley. You have been trying to kill me all year. Forgive me, Draco, but they have been feeble attempts…so feeble, to be honest, that I wonder whether your heart has been really in it…"

Harry wanted to curse, closing his eyes he meditated as he tried to yank Dumbledore's magic off him. Not listening to their conversation about stupid vanishing cabinets as Dumbledore tried to buy more time. More time for what, Harry didn't know for the Order to appear? The Ministry? That thought was laughable at best; the Ministry would only come once the battle is all but over trying to play their part as if they'd been there all along. He choked inwardly when he heard Draco claiming that Severus would be nothing and he Draco Malfoy would be favoured. Did the idiot really believe that or was he just saying it? The whole thing was a set up for him to fail! As way to punish his bloody father for giving his Diary away.

Triumph shot through Harry as he got through the spell keeping him silent, but he didn't dare say anything not yet. At least he would be able to defend himself if the need arose. Was Severus even aware of what was going on? If Draco killed him then all their plans were for naught…he didn't know what to do, plus now he knew a member of the Order was hurt! Who was it? It obviously wasn't Severus but what if it was Neville or Luna? Where were they? If there was ever a moment he wished he had the map it would be right now to make sure they were alright. Right now he had to just get through the one keeping him frozen in place, damn Dumbledore to hell! He deserved whatever that was going to happen for doing this to him.

Greyback? As in the werewolf that had turned Remus? In a school full of children? Could he infect them without the full moon? No, no he couldn't, the book said they were only infectious during the full moon which was near enough coming. Remus could smell better closer to the moon; did he know he was here? Stuck under the cloak? Oh he didn't like that observed Harry watching as he was blasted away by magic, unhurt of course, werewolves were impervious to some magic. He was fucking huge, bulky…Remus would look like a midget compared to him.

"Draco, do it, or stand aside so one of us-" the woman said her voice screeching but it stopped mid sentence as the door opened again. This time it was Severus who stepped through, not listening to the female who spoke again, as he swept into the tower his black eyes looking around at the Death Eaters, Dumbledore but looking for something in particular that he couldn't find. The Death Eaters moved aside without so much as a word, the giant werewolf…Greyback even seemed cowed by Severus' presence. He'd had no idea how…well, how they were terrified of him.

There was a few seconds of silence when Severus pointed his wand at Dumbledore, as if waiting for something. Then just as Dumbledore swayed on his feet, as if affected by something unseen. Looking ready to topple over any given second then the green spell exploded from Severus' wand with two simple words "Avada Kedavra!" the body of Dumbledore jerked before falling in slow motion over the tower dead long before he even got to the bottom of the tower.

"Out of here, quickly!" snapped Severus, grabbing Malfoy by the scruff of the neck as they began running.

One of the Death Eaters was to slow as Harry was finally out of the spell holding him immobile. He cast a quick "Petrificus Totalus!" and he ran, trying to get as many of the Death Eaters as possible, things were getting dangerous now far too dangerous.

Then something big and huge landed on him, temporarily winding him. He belated realized it was Greyback, the werewolf and his bloody great big teeth were right at his throat.

"Get off me you great big oaf!" hissed Harry, using a blasting curse causing the werewolf to go flying but once again remains unhurt. "Fenrir Greyback, the great big Alpha, reduced to taking orders from Voldemort…letting the Death Eaters curse you without fighting back…Voldemort, he hates your kind. Take what you can get you idiot, while you still can because if he wins he will kill you when he no longer needs you! You'll be the first of the werewolves destroyed if he wins! How does it feel to know you'll inevitably be the downfall of your own kind?"

A Petrificus Totalus spell hit Greyback before he could even move or roar in anger whatever he would do. Harry looked on in the distance, he realized who it had been, and Severus had cast the spell. He wasn't surprised it had been strong enough to bring down the werewolf. Severus was one of the most powerful wizards in the world - no doubt the reason Voldemort had wanted him. Pointing at his chest, Severus turned back forcing himself away from the battle, away from Harry away from the only home he'd ever truly known.

"Take that!" Harry heard McGonagall mutter, tripping over something as he ran into the battle to help everyone. Looking down he paled when he saw who it was,

"NEVILLE!" shouted Harry, helping him up, looking him over to make sure he was alright. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Malfoy and Snape ran past…" said Neville.

"I know," said Harry, he had no intentions of going after them; they were surrounded by Death Eaters on all sides. It seemed as though it hadn't just been four death eaters that had gotten in, or the werewolf, come to that. Helping Neville to his feet, as the DA, the Order and McGonagall all continued to fight the retreating Death Eaters. There were Death Eaters still injured, hurt or stunned in some manner preventing them from getting away. It was useless putting them in Azkaban, they would just get out - but there was nothing much else they could do.

"Potter where is the Headmaster?" asked Minerva, making her way over to him looking frazzled but alert.

"Dead," said Harry his voice hollow and worn. As if he had just suffered a terrible blow, which was of course as far from the truth it was laughable.

"What?" cried Minerva her eyes wide with shock.

"What yeh talking about? Dumbledore's no dead." said Hagrid, shaking his head in denial, having heard Harry's speech as he approached.

"They killed him, he fell over the Astronomy tower," croaked Harry.

Minerva immediately strode outside, wanting confirmation for herself, only to be sorely disappointed when she saw Dumbledore's broken body lying dead across the grass. Students of all ages just standing around the body looking as if they'd been crying for hours not just minutes. Minerva barely held herself together, raising her wand she began to banish the Dark Mark from the school, replacing it with a phoenix - they would never be beaten as long as they had breath still in their bodies.

"Where are the Weasleys?" asked Harry, as much as he wasn't getting on with Ron right now he cared about them all.

"The hospital wing," whispered Luna appearing beside them.

"What? Is everyone alright?" asked Harry, worriedly.

"Bill Weasley was attacked by Greyback," said Luna grimly.

"Was he the one to go down? Near the tower?" Harry demanded to know.

"Yes, as far as we know there's no fatalities…well…other than Professor Dumbledore." whispered Neville looking choked up.

A bark caught Harry's attention, blinking unable to believe it why the hell would he risk himself coming here? Shaking his head he left everyone as he moved towards the black shaggy dog. "What the fuck are you doing here? Are you trying to get yourself put back in Azkaban? There are Ministry officials all over the place!" hissed Harry, grabbing Padfoot by the scruff of his neck and forcefully moving him looking around for someone.

"Are you looking for someone, Harry?" asked Dean.

"Professor Lupin…have you seen him?" asked Harry.

"He's in the hospital wing, uninjured I think he brought Bill Weasley to Madam Pomfrey!" said Dean his face streaked with tears that refused to fall anymore.

"Thanks," said Harry before he quickly moved through the school, keeping a grip on Sirius who didn't dare bite him. He wasn't happy though, you could tell by the way Harry was practically dragging him away, his backside sliding along as he did. He looked like a dog would when they were being forced to go to a vet. If it was any other circumstances he would have found it amusing but he was too pissed off right now. He had to find Lupin and get Sirius out of Hogwarts before someone realized what he was. Thankfully Malfoy wasn't about, for he seemed to know what the bloody hell Sirius was.


	63. Practically A Hostage

A New Place To Stay 

Chapter 63 

Practically A Hostage

 

Grimmauld Place - The Order Headquarters - The Order 

Harry felt as though he was ready to explode, being trapped inside Grimmauld Place wasn't what he had expected to be doing with his summer. Despite the fact Harry hadn't said anything to anyone, about what he saw in the astronomy tower, there was the belief that either 'Snape or Malfoy' had killed the Headmaster. Professor McGonagall had latched onto the rumour and spent nearly every second he was in Hogwarts trying to get him to 'open up' and talk about his thoughts and feelings. The pity and anger was driving him up the wall, despite the fact she had no credence to the rumours she had taken it into her bleeding heart to believe them. Then came the anger, just because he wasn't 'grieving' for Dumbledore. Honestly he wouldn't have been surprised if she'd started looking at his arm for the Dark Mark the way she was carrying on. Either that or she believed he was someone else under Poly-juice potion but the first hour had proven that false indeed. As soon as the school year had ended, the train had taken them back to Kings Cross, where what appeared to be the entire Order waiting on him in one disguise or another.

They hadn't even allowed him to protest or say anything, before he was manhandled into their arms and Portkey'd to Grimmauld Place. To make matters worse, they followed him everywhere; he couldn't even go to the toilet without someone escorting him there. To top it off, he'd been handed letters from his friends, opened and probably read. Ron, Ginny and Hermione seemed to think they could pretend as if the past few years hadn't happened. He didn't know what the hell had gotten into them, part of him thought he'd ended up in some sort of alternate reality. Nothing he said seemed to deter them so Harry gave them the silent treatment.

The Secret Keeper was now Sirius, and he controlled the wards. Which were much stricter than before, the Portkey he had wouldn't work. They'd felt it though and burst into the room he was saying in, with Ron of all people to make matters worse. Then proceeded to check everything he owned, he could barely believe they'd gone through his belongings. Thankfully nobody, not even Moody had evidently thought to check his neck, which they wouldn't really since it was invisible from detection.

"If you are quite finished," snapped Harry through gritted teeth, growling at them.

"Where's the Portkey, Harry?" said Sirius intently, looking ready to grab and shake his godson for his thoughtlessness.

Harry just glared at them, "GET OUT!" roared Harry, his magic swirling around him as he panted in fury.

"There's nothing here," said Tonks, spelling all his belongings back into his trunk. Giving the room another look over and found nothing, the Auror in her knew it wasn't just a 'glitch' but they couldn't find anything so they had no choice but to leave it at that. The rest of the Order though had scampered away, shuddering at the feeling of the powerful magic whirling around them.

"You shouldn't trust anybody boy, they'll sell you up the river to save their own skin." warned Moody, thinking it was a friend that had sent it. Perhaps the Longbottom boy, who Harry had befriended last year, they'd already gone through the letters the boy had sent maybe they'd missed it.

"Why should I trust you then?" snapped Harry, bitterly disgusted, he hated it here.

Moody twitched in irritation, "Watch what you say, boy!" barked Moody in anger before he turned and stormed off. Tonks and Shacklebolt followed him. He knew their schedules by now, they would be leaving to go to the Ministry for 'work' although for how much longer Harry couldn't say. He wasn't allowed in Order meetings, but thanks to the twins still sending him boxes, he'd left an extendable ear glued to the table with all the invisible spells that was invented. Considering it was still there, he knew he had successfully hidden it from Moody's eye, just like the pendant his dad gave him was still concealed. The school and the Ministry were nearly overturned; Voldemort was making his move now.

Harry grabbed his bag and towel before brushing past Sirius without saying a word, gritting his teeth as he was followed yet again. Sliding into the bathroom, he closed it with an almighty bang. Breathing deeply, leaning against the door he allowed himself to calm down. If Severus could see him like this, he would be disappointed that his anger was getting the better of him. Then just like that his anger melted away, he never ever wanted to disappoint his dad. Placing all his frustrations and anger behind his shields, sighing out a breath of relief, locking the door he turned on the shower and undressed before stepping in.

He stayed under the warm spray just allowing himself to feel at peace, without anyone being in the same room as him. He didn't dare touch his pendant, he didn't trust Grimmauld Place, and it wouldn't surprise him if they had some sort of device in here that could see him. The thought repulsed him, but there was nothing he could do yet, he didn't want to risk using his second wand. If they took it from him it would be the last thing they did. Touching his familiar, stroking him softly, his green eyes dimmed, he must be so hungry, and he wasn't a very good owner. Hedwig was free to go as she pleased, but she was only an owl, if the Order saw Zar they wouldn't think twice about killing him. He had to get away; somehow he just had to, even if it was only to take Zar to Prince Manor where he could roam to his hearts content. He had to know if his dad was alright, he was worried Voldemort would kill him, it hadn't been his task, and it had been Malfoy's. Voldemort was insane enough; he might just kill him for disobeying him. His heart hurt just thinking it, no, no he wouldn't do that, his dad was too valuable. He didn't need to fear the Death Eaters hurting him anymore, out of jealousy, they were scared of him. That thought made him almost grin smugly, the purebloods scared of the Half-Blood Prince.

Another thing, Professor McGonagall hadn't been able to find Dumbledore's wand, the Elder wand. He'd thought it over, trying to think what had happened to it. Yet nothing came to him, the last he saw it was in Dumbledore's hand, he hadn't even pointed it at Malfoy, and it had just been grasped loosely in his fingers. The thought of Death Eaters having control of such a powerful wand was daunting, at least they didn't know what it was - he hoped.

Grabbing his bag he unzipped it and took out his shower gel and began to scrub himself clean. Grimmauld Place wasn't the nicest place to be, the place was fifthly despite Molly Weasley's best efforts. His hair was washed and cleaned before he stepped out, shivering in cold, he quickly rubbed himself dry with the towel he'd bought with him which was imbued with a warming charm so the towel never got wet. Giving a look of disgust at the door, he hastily got dressed, as always making sure his tattoo was covered. Which wasn't hard to do, the house was always cold, so everyone wore jumpers and cloaks to keep warm. Opening the door, he backtracked and grabbed his bag before going to the bedroom, it would never be his. After this he wasn't forgiving Sirius, he was keeping him locked up like he was, this was worse than the Dursley's in his opinion. At least at the Dursley's he wasn't followed around, he got to be alone for longer than half a second. No he was being disingenuous he knew that, he wasn't beaten here. He might have liked it, if he hadn't spent two summers at Prince Manor, knowing the true taste of freedom and being cared for.

"Hungry, Harry?" grinned Sirius, as his godson wandered out of his bedroom. The smile fell from his face when Harry just ignored him and practically ran down the stairs. Sighing softly, he wondered what he could do to help him; Harry was acting as if he wasn't there most of the time. He wasn't sure what caused it, he hadn't written to him at all during the school year either, just a short one in December wishing him a happy Christmas. Hermione and Ron couldn't tell him, since he knew they hadn't been friends. He had hoped all of them there under the same roof would allow old feelings to resurface.

"Breakfast is on the table Harry!" beamed Molly, her usual diligent self.

"No thank you," said Harry, the smell of the grease as always turned his stomach. Ever since he'd started that diet to build himself up, he had stuck to it. Which meant no greasy fry up breakfast for him, instead he grabbed himself a pan and begun making some porridge for himself.

"Did you want porridge again today dear? I'll do it, you sit down." said Molly, trying to shoo him away and take control of the kitchen and everything else while she was at it.

"It's fine, I'm here now." stated Harry firmly; surely they couldn't keep him here against his will after he turned seventeen? He couldn't help but hope that was the case.

"Nonsense, let me do it," demanded Molly, trying to remove the spatula from Harry's hand.

"I know how I like my porridge," Harry told her, trying to be friendly, he still loved the Weasley's they'd been good to him. He would never understand why they considered him another son; he hadn't spent enough time with them for such a bond to appear. Not even on his part and he was an orphan starved of love. They had been Ron's parents, always had been, that's not to say he wasn't fond of them, he was just not in the way they tried to believe. He understood the difference between someone who cared and was overbearing and someone who cared enough to do something about it. Once it was mixed together and bubbling away on the pot, he began to cut up fruit for himself from the bowl in the corner. It was mostly full; nobody in their right mind, at least according to Ron would eat fruit with a large selection of his mothers home made cookies on display freshly baked.

Molly was standing there frowning at him, she could sense a change in the child, and that is what she considered him. She wasn't sure she liked it, he shouldn't be making breakfast, it was almost as if he didn't trust them, but she had to acknowledge he had eaten the porridge she'd had made the past few days. Arthur was the only other one who ate it of course, and since he wasn't here today, she hadn't bothered. Harry was a growing boy he should be eating properly, like the rest of her children. Giving up she carried the coffee pot to the table for the adults to indulge, placing only three cups on the table. Finding it difficult to concentrate with Harry wandering around the kitchen.

Harry finally sat down, ignoring the staring as he had done for the past few days, only to frown and stand back up and grab a mug for himself. Molly looked about ready to protest when he poured himself a coffee, thankfully she refrained from saying anything. Breakfast then continued in stained silence, still grieving for the loss of their leader and coming to terms with the young man Harry had become. To Hermione, Ginny and Ron though it wasn't a surprise, they'd had to deal with the fact Harry wasn't the forgiving friend he used to be.

Once everyone had finished their meal, Molly flicked her wand and the plates began to float towards the sink, the water began running, bubbles began to appear and a scrubber began to meticulously scrub the plates clean by itself.

"Can everyone leave please? I'd like to have a word with my godson alone." said Sirius, as soon as Molly cast the spell.

Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Molly, Bill, Charlie and Hestia Jones all got up and left the room, doing as Sirius had asked. They didn't even look back, as the door closed behind them. Sirius cast silencing charms on the room, not wanting the others eavesdropping on a private conversation. Sirius then turned back to his godson, wondering where the hell to start.

"Alright, Harry, what's wrong?" asked Sirius, his tone soothing and quiet.

"You mean other than the fact you're keeping me prisoner here?" asked Harry bluntly, his eyes never wavering from his godfathers, so he noticed the guilt appearing in his eyes.

"You aren't a prisoner!" snapped Sirius, not liking the way Harry was being. "We are trying to protect you! Do you know how vulnerable you would be out there? Where else would you go Harry? Tell me? You aren't safe the Death Eaters are roaming out there ready to take over at any second!"

"I can look after myself!" snapped Harry, infuriated, why did they keep treating him like a five year old.

Sirius closed his eyes in despair, "Not against Death Eaters you can't, you can't leave here…Snape is a traitor and probably told You-Know-Who everything. He probably has Death Eaters watching this place all the time, why do you think we never leave through the front door anymore? Harry please promise me you wont do anything stupid." they always used the Floo to get back and forth. It was just too risky; the Death Eaters couldn't gain access to this house they couldn't allow it.

Harry bit his tongue so hard that he drew blood; this was what he'd been forced to put up with. Everyone bad mouthing his dad, he knew it had to be done, but he still didn't like it. He felt the same bubbling magic he'd felt when he blew up Marge, tampering it down with sheer force. Sighing softly, he felt a bit of ice thaw around his heart, despite how he'd gone about it his godfather cared…a great deal. Standing up he moved over to him, before embracing him tightly. The niggling thought that Sirius wouldn't care when he found out how he felt about Severus was firmly banished. Sirius would just have to accept it, Severus was his dad in all but blood, and nothing would ever change that. "I'll be fine, Sirius, you don't have to worry about me." he had been trained well, he had a better chance of surviving than he had a few years ago, that was putting it bluntly.

"Harry…I can't lose you, you're all I have left." murmured Sirius, his voice muffled by Harry's jumper.

"Of James? I know, but Sirius…you can't keep comparing me to him, I never knew him…and I never will." said Harry strongly, like Molly said he wasn't James and he wasn't Sirius' best friend. "I never had a life like James…I mean my father. He was spoiled, went to Hogwarts and had seven years of carefree existence. I didn't have that luxury; I wasn't even back in the wizarding world half a year before there was an attempt on my life…"

Sirius drew back nodded in solemn understanding; perhaps it was finally getting through to him.

"As much as I've loved learning about magic, it's been clouded with darkness, and its only going to get worse…" sighed Harry, finding it refreshing to be open and honest with his godfather, well as honest as he could be. "Everyone is expecting me to destroy HIM and I'm just an underage wizard, when more experienced wizards and witches have fallen before him."

"No, Harry, you'll survive!" said Sirius, his voice tinged with desperation. He had to believe that, the thought of losing him was too much to bear. He'd already lost Lily and James that had been hard enough; he couldn't let his godson die too.

Harry just shook his head in despair, not sure whether Sirius was just stupid or desperate. There was every chance he wouldn't survive, especially if he couldn't get out of here and destroy the two remaining Horcruxes. He had no idea how the hell he could get into Gringotts and get the cup, not without using the Imperius Curse on Bellatrix and forcing her. If he could find her and that was only feasible if she was even susceptible to the curse, it would be just his luck that she wouldn't be. Then it would be just Nagini, the most dangerous one of all, not just because of what she was, but because she never went further than a few feet from Voldemort. Unless you discounted the time he sent her to the Ministry of Magic when she bit Arthur Weasley.

Obviously Sirius wasn't going to let him leave; he was far too worried for that. Which meant trying to guilt him into letting him go wasn't going to work. He would just have to bid his time until he wasn't watched so much, he had a feeling this was all down to McGonagall. His mail was watched, he didn't know where his dad was to dare send a letter. Hedwig was just too well known, they would know within seconds if he did. He would just have to ride it out, but the unknown was making him sick with worry.

 

End of July - Grimmauld Place - Harry and Ron's room - Harry 

Harry paced back and forth, the floorboard underneath him creaking every time he moved. Everyone and he meant everyone was avoiding him like he had the Dragon Pox. Not that he could blame them, he was biting everyone's head off when they even spoke to him. He rarely left the bedroom now, other than to eat. He couldn't afford to miss meals, he had to be healthy, and he had a job to do. He'd been here nearing a fortnight now, and he hadn't been able to give Zar anything other than a few frozen mice, bacon and sausages. He was bound to be starving, and knowing that feeling as he did - it made Harry furious that he couldn't provide for him.

A pop had him whirling around a scathing retort on his lips when Kreacher spoke.

"Can Kreacher help Master Harry?" asked the House-Elf, looking far too hopeful.

"Have you been ask to watch me and deny it if I asked?" demanded Harry, eyeing the House-Elf with trepidation.

Kreacher blinked, "No and no Master Harry," said the House-Elf honestly, he wanted to serve the wizard who had helped him with his true Master, Master Regulus' last wishes. He hated his Master Sirius, and would do anything to defy him, after the way Regulus had treated him - as an equal of sorts, with kindness it was little wonder he hated Sirius. Not only now but when they were both young and his Mistress was still alive.

"Can other House-Elves get in if I called them?" asked Harry, wanting to slap himself, why hadn't he tried to call Dobby earlier? Dobby would be able to get to his dad and make sure he was alright.

"No Master Harry," said Kreacher, shaking his large head is ears flapping as he did so. The Fidelius Charm was one wizarding magic that House-Elves couldn't get around. Since Harry wasn't the Secret Keeper he couldn't give the address and name away, even if he had known it before it didn't mean he could tell anyone.

"Why are you calling me Master?" asked Harry, belatedly realizing what the House-Elf was calling him.

In a rare sight, the House-Elf stared at the floor not giving an answer, and Harry could have sworn on his life he saw red stains marring Kreacher's cheeks.

"Can you do something for me and swear not to tell Sirius? Even if he asks?" demanded Harry, his eyes lightening up at the thought.

"Yes Sir," said Kreacher reverting to 'Sir' now.

"Don't be scared, he wont hurt you." said Harry making up his mind.

Kreacher's eyes widened at the order wondering what the wizard meant by that statement.

Harry willed Zar from his body; the misty tattoo removed itself and began to form into a large Basilisk that took up nearly the entire length of his room. Harry was already speaking Parseltongue, soothing the agitated hungry snake, telling him that he would get food very soon. "Kreacher is going to take you to Prince Manor; there will be food for you there, plenty of animals for you to hunt. You will remain there for a while, stay within the wards and I will have Kreacher come and get you again alright?" hissed Harry. "I cannot look after you here." he confessed mournfully, stroking his scales, fondly listening to his hissing, he was fully grown now, and intimidating. He couldn't get his hands around him anymore; in fact he was taller than him. It was hard to believe that he could fit on his body as a tattoo the size he was.

"Don't leave it too long," demanded Zar, having learned that his human would leave him there if he felt guilty. He didn't want to be far from his silly human, not for long anyway. He had to protect him from the people who wanted to hurt him, and he would protect him. His human had earned his loyalty, always keeping him fed, warm and letting him go out and hunt and have fun, even if he wasn't allowed near people. He knew his human worried for him, not the wizards or witches, he was scared they hurt him. Well he wasn't a youngling anymore, his scales made him nearly impenetrable and he wouldn't do what the other snake had. "I'll eat enough so I can last." he added, hoping to convince his human.

"Alright," hissed Harry, tightening his hold on Zar before reluctantly letting him go. He didn't like being without Zar anymore than Zar liked being away from him. When this was all said and done, he would make sure he lived somewhere where his familiar could roam until his hearts content. Without having to fear he would come across humans, wizards, witches anything that would harm him. Harry knew how easy it was to defeat a basilisk, having done so previously at the age of twelve. He had confessed as such to Zar when he had claimed nothing could kill him. It had certainly been an eye opener for the proud snake, and hopefully it would make him realize humans weren't just prey but actually a threat. "A few days, I promise, if you get hungry again or feel like coming off then you can go back later."

Zar hissed, his long tongue snaking out to taste the air, enjoying being off his human for a while.

"If you see Severus, tell him I can't come…that the Portkey won't work with the wards," hissed Harry. "That they won't let me out, I can't hunt down the Horcruxes. If there is anyone else with him do not be seen, even if it's another snake speaker."

"I know, silly human," hissed Zar.

Well Harry had definitive proof that snakes could roll their eyes, well…if you could call that eye rolling, Harry just sighed softly. He almost didn't want him to go; it would mean he really was alone, stuck here, with absolutely nobody for company. Unfortunately Zar needed to eat; needed to exercise…the alternative wasn't an option.

"Go on then, Kreacher, take him to Prince Manor, do not be seen by anyone, come back afterwards, I'll send you back to get him in a few days." said Harry quietly, moving himself away from Zar already feeling the loss. He didn't need to wonder if Kreacher knew where it was, House-Elves were different from humans. They could track anyone they wanted to; its how Dobby had been able to track him in his second year.

A few seconds later his room was empty, the giant serpent was gone as was Kreacher. The anger that he'd been feeling the past week dissipated. His fear and anger had been because of Zar not getting to eat, now that he was fine he could breathe easier. Climbing onto the bed, Harry summoned his drawing supplies, and began to draw Zar, it had been a while since he done anything. The book he'd written about Basilisks was complete. Zar was fully grown and in just two human years, he would live for a long time after him. There was nothing further to document about them, which was probably a good thing - the makeshift book was quite big. Before the inevitable battle he planned on sending his trunk to Prince Manor. If his dad survived, maybe he would publish the book for him, like he'd suggested Harry should do.

Pouring water from his wand with a quick 'Aguamenti' he began to paint his entire features softened as he concentrated on his task. One look at Harry you could see he was completely content, and perhaps he was lost in his painting.

An hour later, Harry was finally done, getting up from his bed he opened his trunk and removed the brown paper covered book and opened it. Placing the drawing at the top, it would be the cover, on top in black paint inscribed 'A Basilisks life and how to care for them' followed by H. J Potter. He didn't have the guts to put Snape, like he originally wanted to when he began it, after all nobody would think Harry Potter would use a fake name like Snape after all. Only one problem with that…Harry had long ago come to terms with the fact he wished it wasn't fake.

When he first began to think of Severus as a dad, he'd felt really bad, he had felt as though he was betraying his real father. Unfortunately it hadn't taken long for the feelings he had for Severus to completely eclipse those of James. Which wouldn't be hard, his love for James had been wishful thinking, imagining what it was like. With Severus it had been the real thing, in everything he did. The worry that Severus wouldn't want anything to do with him after the war was over was always present, niggling at the back of his mind. Its why he vowed never to call him anything other than Severus, it would kill him if he found out he was doing it out of duty, he could only imagine how it would feel if he actually allowed himself to call Severus dad and the feelings that would probably intensify.

The war was getting all too real now, he had a job to do, if he did it and Severus still cared…which he prayed was the case…maybe he would confess how he felt. Breathing deeply, placing it within a compartmentalized place in mind, and not wishing to deal with it further today. Closing the brown paper he strung the string together and tied it, keeping his unbound book safe. He was very proud of it, and he didn't have a second copy so he needed to be very careful. He could copy it but it wouldn't look the same, and the artwork couldn't be right either.

His stomach grumbled causing Harry to wonder about the time, looking at his watch he was surprised to see it was dinnertime already. Shrugging his shoulders, he opened his bedroom door, unsurprised to see the shadow as he ambled down the stairs. He was hungry, and he hoped they had made something he could eat. Not that he minded making his own meals, he just wasn't used to it anymore, and at Prince Manor his meals were all cooked for him as were his meals at Hogwarts.

 

September - Grimmauld Place - Kitchen 

"Come on, Harry it's not that bad!" said Sirius, trying to cheer his godson up, which he had been failing spectacularly at since he came here. Even the party they'd tried to throw Harry was a complete disaster; he'd sat in brooding silence the entire time. When he'd opened his presents he'd shown nothing but consternation in what they'd bought him. As if he already had everything they were giving him or he didn't like them. To Harry though he realized just how little they knew him, it wasn't the presents exactly just what they were giving him. Books on being an Auror, honestly, they were making assumptions about his life yet again. The fact they expected him to enjoy the party while being held practically hostage infuriated him too. He didn't want to be here, they knew that yet they kept him here - so no he bloody damn well wasn't going to smile and pretend everything was alright.

The conversation they had didn't seem to matter, Sirius had tried talking to him again, keeping it casual but Harry didn't care for mindless chatter anymore. There was a war going on out there, and everyone else was content just to sit here and wait it out until it got worse instead of preventing it. Out of sheer boredom and anger at their actions Harry had began spending time in the library, reading the books even if it brought him into close proximity of Hermione Granger. They had been serious about not letting him out; Zar had been to Prince Manor six times, but never caught sight of Severus on any trip there. Needless to say he was bloody terrified something had happened.

Suddenly the Floo flared up spitting out a pale shaken Minerva McGonagall, who looked ready to pass out. Her normal grey hair frazzled and hung loosely around her shoulders. Never once had Harry seen her with her hair anything other than immaculately tied into a perfect bun at the back of her head with her tartan strap. He would have felt terrified and worried for her, if not for the fact being locked up in Grimmauld Place was all her fault. It had to be, she'd been tailing him around Hogwarts at the end of the term, nearly constantly.

"Minerva!" cried Sirius, apprehensive, running around to the other side of the table to get to her. Once he was there, he gently manoeuvred her to get her sitting down, she looked as though she was about to go into shock. Harry flicked his wand and boiled the kettle, before making her a cup of coffee, not sure if she even drank it but he knew it was good for shock. Adding a spoonful of sugar as well, before carrying it over.

"What happened?" asked Harry, staring at the witch, she was usually so composed to see her like this actually worried him. He placed the coffee on the table next to her, making sure she saw it and knew it was there.

"He's taken control of the school," rasped Minerva, "Snape has been made Headmaster." disgust pouring from her.

Harry felt his heart ease, he was alright, it was the best news he'd heard in weeks. Closing his eyes in relief, before opening them alarmed by his loss of composure. A sigh left his lips when he realized neither were looking at him, it had gone unnoticed. His eyebrows did disappear into his hair when he heard Sirius actually curse.

"Shit," swore Sirius, growling angrily, feeling utterly useless. "Get your things and move in here, it will be safer."

"I will not leave the students at the mercy of Snape and the Carrows!" snapped Minerva, straightening up, her decision already made.

"Carrows?" croaked Sirius, looking as sick as Minerva had earlier.

"Who are the Carrows?" asked Harry, cautiously, he had never heard of them before. Trying to think back to the graveyard, he realized they hadn't been mentioned. Quite a few people hadn't been though, just the more prominent ones, although how Crabbe and Goyle could be prominent he'd never know they were thick as trolls.

"Amycus and Alecto Carrow, Death Eaters, they slunk away after You-Know-Who was defeated, avoiding imprisonment. No doubt they returned to him when he returned, they're only slightly better than Bellatrix Lestrange." grimaced Sirius, "They like torture, especially with knifes. Having them in the school filled with children…they would be safer jumping into a lions den."

All of a sudden the Order began pouring into the room, most of them were just the Auror's or those that worked within the Ministry. They looked devastated, beaten and bruised; Harry didn't need to hear what was coming to know. A shiver worked its way down his spine, it had begun, and the war had well and truly started. The words Severus had said when he first went to Prince Manor resonated deeply within him.

"Yes. The last war was very bad indeed… people were going missing, being killed; the Ministry was being taken over. The world was awash with fear, people hoping for some miracle…Hogwarts was just about to be invaded by Voldemort's troops, and then all of a sudden on Halloween night it all stopped, as if the world had been put on standstill. They had indeed stopped using his name for fear of him finding them… you see, he had put a spell on his name: anyone brave or stupid enough to speak it would find themselves surrounded by Death Eaters and permanently silenced."

Even now the tone of voice Severus used caused him to shiver, his voice had sounded so haunted. Tonks speaking brought Harry out of his thoughts.

"They have control over the Ministry," said Tonks, wincing as Shacklebolt healed the large gash on her cheek. The fight had been sudden, ruthless and devastating. They'd had to leave Scrimgeour, he was being guarded by five Death Eaters, and they hadn't had a chance. They knew he would be dead come morning and another Minister put in his place. The Aurors that had been with him were dead as well, none of the Order had been killed that they knew about.

"Hogwarts too," said Sirius grimly, his blue eyes were filled with worry and fear.

"ARTHUR YOU'RE HURT!" screeched Molly, getting the first sight of her husband. Barrelling towards him, fear written across her face as if her Bogart itself had come to life. Merlin the first time had been bad enough, seeing a spell forcing her husband to breathe as he choked on the very air that was keeping him alive. Stuck on a bed as they tried to come up with a counter to Nagini's venom in time. Watching each and every breath becoming slower, only for the potion to be given in the nick of time. That hadn't meant he was out of the woods, her husband had been very weak.

"I'm fine, Molly," placated Arthur, trying to soothe his terrified wife while hiding the affects the Cruciatus Curse were causing to his body. He knew he wasn't very effective, as she quickly got him into the kitchen, sitting him down looking around wringing her hands together. A battle she could handle, but this mess she could not, she felt a horrible sense of déjà vu. She wanted her family, all her family around her - she needed it. She'd lost her brothers to the dark wizards, she couldn't lose any one else.

"So its started." said Harry coldly, his voice filled with a grave certainty that caused everyone to shiver as if someone had walked across their graves. If anyone had been in their right mind, they would have pondered on just who he sounded like…a few would have guessed but brushed it off immediately. After all Harry and Severus hated each other did they not? "The second war."

Well let's just say war or no they were in for one hell of a surprise.

Especially one Sirius Orion Black. It may well be a surprise he would never recover from.

One way or another Harry was determined to get out of here and finish what he and his dad had started.


	64. September 2nd

A New Place To Stay 

Chapter 64 

September 2nd

 

Headmaster Severus Snape sat in the Headmaster's chair, his body stiff and unyielding, everything that had once belonged to Dumbledore was gone. Or so everyone believed, he had merely packed everything away and placed it somewhere safe. Oh he had been tempted to destroy everything, set it all ablaze until it was naught but ashes to be banished. He was still furious with the old fool, for everything he'd done to Harry. If he survived the war, Albus Dumbledore would be facing his wrath, and he was hopeful he could survive, they had all but two of the Dark Lord's Horcruxes destroyed. It was more than imperative that the other two were destroyed as well. To make matters worse, Harry hadn't used the Portkey to go to Prince Manor. He had no idea what had happened to him, he'd gone totally off the radar. He could assume that Harry was at least marginally safe; the Dark Lord would have summoned them if Harry had been found. The urge to close his eyes was strong, but he refused to show the slightest bit of weakness here in this office of all places. The students would be returning to Hogwarts, at least some of them. The Muggle Borns wouldn't dare show; purebloods would be the only ones attending. Regardless of who was coming, Hogwarts wasn't going to be the safe heaven it once was. No, with the Carrows here the students were in grave danger, it went against every single one of his instincts to let this injustice happen. Yet he was utterly helpless to prevent it, all he could do was limit the damage.

Severus clenched his hands together, the helplessness almost overpowering him, the Carrows much to his consternation had been made 'Deputy Headmistress/masters'. Breathing deeply, looking more and more like a human statue than anything else at the moment. Amycus had taken the 'Dark Art's' class, it was no longer to be called Defence Against the Dark Arts. Amycus' sister, Alecto would be taking on the role of the Muggle Studies teacher. He would have been glad for it, since Charity Burbage was now…snake dinner; stupid woman hadn't even tried to hide herself adequately. That's not to say he didn't feel sorry for her, but regretfully death had been such a big part of his life that he didn't feel like a normal person would. She had not suffered, he took solace from that, or tried to at the very least. It did not help his sleep, his mind kept conjuring what happened up. The desperate plea of 'we're friends' kept rattling around in his head. Nobody knew of course, other than the Death Eaters, she had 'allegedly' resigned from her post. Shaking the image from his mind, refusing to dwell on it, erecting his shields to their full extent and any emotion he'd been feeling faded to the background. His sleep was interrupted enough, he refused to let himself think on it during his waken hours too.

A cackling mad laugh alerted Severus to Bellatrix Lestrange's presence before he actually saw her. This time he did pinch the bridge of his nose, he did not want to deal with Bellatrix Lestrange. The insane jealous bitch always questioned his loyalty, had done since the moment he returned to the 'Dark Lord's side'. Just because he hadn't been willing to go to Azkaban apparently that made him a traitor, just like all the others who had used their money or claimed 'Imperius' when they were arrested. The way Bellatrix stared at the Dark Lord, especially with how he currently looked, quite frankly made him sick to his stomach. Considering all he'd seen and done, it was saying a lot about it. Stiffening his resolve, he resigned himself with having to put up with her. As long as she wasn't in the bloody castle when the students came he didn't care, the Carrows were bad, but Bellatrix was a whole other thing altogether. He didn't even so much as twitch when she slammed the door open, Severus was only disappointed it didn't swing back with enough force to smack her in her gleeful face.

"What are you doing here?" sneered Severus, arching a bored eyebrow at her, forcing himself to relax and thrum his fingers on the chair he was sitting in. He would never allow her to believe he was in any way intimidated by her, disgusted yes, intimidated never. She liked to pretend she had been the only one to learn spells from the Dark Lord but it wasn't true, he too had been taught by him. Even if it turned his stomach to think about those times where he'd been so enamoured with the attention and the fact the Dark Lord chose to teach him. He would be able to protect himself, although in a real duel the outcome was unknown, he liked to think he could beat her. He hadn't been the one in Azkaban for thirteen years or so after all.

Bellatrix threw a glare at Snape, she hated him always had done, she was the most loyal of the Death Eaters! Not him, yet she had been cursed by the Dark Lord for disparaging him. Being spurned by the Dark Lord didn't help her any, in fact it just made her hate Snape even more. She would have killed Dumbledore if asked! She would kill Potter if she could, but the Dark Lord didn't ask it of her. Opening her cloak, she removed the sword, irritated when Snape didn't even twitch just sat there smugly. Oh how she wished she could kill him, visions of such a thing happening crossed her mind as she daydreamed about it very briefly.

Thumping the sword on the desk, she removed her Gringotts key and with pure unadulterated hatred on her face passed that over too. Even though the Dark Lord had all but taken over, it was still too risky to be seen in public yet. Not because they were still pretending everything was still normal, no, because if someone saw her they would kill her quicker than looking at her. The outcry that occurred when the Longbottoms were found cursed into insanity had been immense. Pressurising the Ministry into finding the culprits, which they did, meant there were people out there who would be out for her blood. She was a brilliant duller, taught personally by her Dark Lord, but against the masses she'd be more than useless. So she couldn't put the sword in herself, so she had to do it through Snape. The Dark Lord wanted it safe, so she would as always, do as she was told. "Put the sword in my vault, the Dark Lord demands it be kept secure." she said bitterly, baring her teeth at Severus, wishing she could bite him.

Severus' eyebrows both disappeared into his hairline, actually very surprised by the task. His mask of boredom firmly in place, before a sigh of exasperation left his lips. "Very well," replied Severus, impassively. "Now leave."

"I'm staying here, at least until you return. I want my key back as soon as possible." hissed Bellatrix, gazing at him in contempt. She didn't trust him as far as she could throw him. The filthy poor half blood, no she would never trust him, especially not with her vaults. Of course, only she would forget that he was one of the youngest Potion Masters in the world, and held one of the most prominent vaults, perhaps just as prominent if not more so than hers. The Prince line ran though him after all, the last of his line.

"Worried I'd take some useless trinket?" sneered Severus, his black eyes flashing at the transparent insult; he wasn't a common vulgar little thief. "There is nothing you have that I would desire." he added disgusted, doing nothing to hide it.

"I'll never trust you, Snape and I'll be keeping a close eye on you." hissed Bellatrix.

"Yes, because you know better than our Lord." stated Severus calmly and casually, wiping a bit of nonexistent lint from his trousers. Having to stop the smug smirk showing through at her flinch, oh yes, that had been fun, although it was certainly like poking a sleeping dragon really. Abruptly standing up, grabbed both items, the key and the sword before leaving the office - not wishing to spend a second further in her company. He didn't have to worry about her snooping around; all his private things were in his new rooms above his office. He'd used blood wards, with things becoming extremely dangerous he had no choice. Thankfully nobody would question it, they knew he was extremely private always had been.

 

Severus barely looked around at the deserted Alley, he had no doubt Knockturn Alley was probably vastly different. They would soon be replacing all the shops here with the ones that were originally in Knockturn Alley. He strode purposefully towards Gringotts, irritated that he had to do such a menial task. This was something House-Elves would have been better equipped at dealing with, but he knew Lestrange wouldn't have any - she probably killed them a long time ago the vicious hag that she was.

The doors to Gringotts were as always, open, the inside however was empty of everything other than goblins. There was no doubt they were suffering financially at least a little. How many vaults of Muggle Borns and half bloods had been emptied in a bid to survive the war currently waging? Using it to try and escape the British Isles or save their families and do what they could to prevent the uprising of the Dark Lord. There was more Muggle Borns and Half-Blood's than there was Purebloods. More however were probably sitting on their backside, waiting on someone to save them…waiting on his son to save their worthless hides. Nothing angered him more than this, so it was inevitable that his magic flared as he walked towards the teller looking ready to commit murder.

"I need access to this vault, with explicit permission from the owner." stated Severus sharply, placing the key on the tellers desk.

The goblin looked down, before nodding briefly, accepting the key knowing very well which family it belonged to. The spells on the vault would prevent anyone from taking something of which did not belong to them. It would cause harm to them, which the Goblins didn't mind they didn't tolerate thieves. Scrambling into the cart, he waited on the tall imposing wizard to step in, which he did and sat there spine straight as the cart zoomed over the tracks, not even looking disgruntled by the ride at all. Stepping up, the Goblin trailed a long gangly nail along the vault door, clicking was heard all through the passageway. A key was inserted into the vault door as well, and before long the door was opened.

"Stay." stated Severus sourly; he would not do this with a goblin watching over his shoulder…or the side of his legs as the case may be.

The goblins eyes flashed at the order, he was not a dog and he did not want to be treated like one.

Stepping into the vault, he closed the door as much as he dared before his black eyes roamed around in interest. Of course it was the potion vials that caught his interest first. Fascinating he thought to himself as he inspected them, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. The jewelled flasks were unusual, the potions must be very old, and as curious as he was he didn't dare touch. He had control of the Prince vaults; he knew what happened to those who touched something that didn't belong to them. He was pretty sure the Lestranges would have such spells on their vault to give it maximum protection. The skins of various creatures adorned a further wall; he only recognized the shed skin of a few snakes, the others he didn't even want to guess at if he was honest. Arching a brow at the skull with crowns adorned their heads; some of the stuff people had truly baffled him.

He was just about to pull the sword when his gaze just happened to notice a peculiar goblet…his mouth dropped open as he gaped. Never in all his life had he been lucky, let it be said. Now Harry, well he was a different case, it was as if Lily had weaned him on Felix Felicis from the second he was born. He had more luck than anyone should possibly have the amount of times he'd gotten out of sticky situations completely intact. A thought he was thankful for, but things like this didn't usually happen for him.

Taking a deep breath, he stalked closer to it, the sword still in his hand; it was definitely Helga Hufflepuff's cup. The small cup was finely-wrought with a badger on it, the very symbol of Hufflepuff's house. A few smattering of yellow jewels adorned it in various places, pretty much like the sword he held in his hand. However, unlike Godric Gryffindor the female founder hadn't felt the need to have her name concededly inscribed on the artefact. He couldn't touch it, he knew, not without removing the spells that were on it. Using the sword. He threaded the metal through the handle, bringing it close.

Opening his cloak with one hand, he tried futilely to get it open but wasn't successfully. He switched hands, gripping his wand and expanding the pocket allowing the cup to go in much easier. Once it was done he added additional spells before the pocket went back to its original size. Nobody would realize he had anything on him, he'd even masked the presence of the darkness he could feel emanating from it.

He placed the sword at the vault entrance, making it seem like he hadn't even properly stepped into it. It was risky he knew that, if Bellatrix went to her vault herself, it would be traced back to him in a heartbeat. What choice did he have? This opportunity would never come again. At least if anything happened to him, Harry would only need to get rid of Nagini and have a free shot at Voldemort with every chance of killing him. This time it would be for good, no more resurrections, no more Horcruxes, no more fear.

Breathing shakily, he closed his eyes and stood up tall and proud, he had to do this, everything he could to bring that monster down. Thankfully he had a basilisk tooth as well; otherwise he would have had to keep it around until he could get in touch with Harry. Which seems to be a damn sight impossible right now. He wanted to know his son was safe! Merlin be damned, he wanted to know that his son wasn't listening to what everyone was saying about him. No, Harry had known the darkest things about him, including the kinds of potions he'd brewed for the Dark Lord…and he hadn't cared. Simply said to him 'Remind me never to piss you off,' a wry chuckle left Severus' lips.

Opening the vault, leaving behind the sword he closed it again, listening to all the clinks and thumps as the locks reinserted themselves. Mask firmly in place, he sat down on the cart, secretly enjoying the trip back to the main lobby. He took the key back from the goblin, who must have removed it when he was distracted. Soon afterwards he was leaving behind gleaming marble, professional attitudes into deserted Alleys that stank of fear, it was repugnant to him.

 

Severus slammed his Quarters door closed with a loud bang; he'd been forced to endure the Carrows company for the past five hours. Directly after getting rid of Bellatrix Lestrange, needless to say he had no more patience left in him. Sure he was used to wearing masks, but that was to dictate students, not put up with talk of torture, who and how they were going to torture and needless to say he had let them know if they went too far he would extend them the same courtesy they bestow on the students. Of course using the Dark Lord as a means to get their attention stating that 'Our Lord wouldn't want to see anymore pureblood blood spilt.' that had quickly shut them up.

Ripping off his cloak, he didn't throw it on the hook like he usually would, instead he placed it on the couch as he went into the second bedroom he'd set up as a potions lab. The windows were completely blacked out; no light could penetrate the room, just as a lab should be. He didn't even spare a glance as he wandered over to the cupboard and dug in at the very back where he'd created a panel. Removing the Basilisk fang, before closing it once more just in case. He was on pins and needles, had been the entire afternoon, worried that he would be discovered.

"Merlin, I shouldn't have done this," muttered Severus, grabbing his cloak, expanding the pocket and levitating the cup out. Silencing the room, making sure no sound could escape, he didn't hesitate before sticking the fang deeply into the cup, feeling a little dejected that such a priceless Hogwarts heirloom was being destroyed in the process. He had felt the same having to destroy the Diadem and dear Merlin the Slytherin locket too. Unfortunately there wouldn't be a Hogwarts much longer or the any houses if the Dark Lord continued to reign over them. He arched away, shielding his head, placing his hands awkwardly over his ears as it shrieked at him in unholy agony. "No turning back now." he stated to himself, levitating the cup, taking the fang which had fallen with a thud to the floor with him.

This time he went into his bedroom, to the bottom of his bed and opened his old school trunk, which still held various things from his childhood. Which wasn't a great many, he found the box at the bottom and picked it up, placing it on the bed before opening it and allowing the levitating cup fall with a thud into it. Closing it immediately, shifting the latch and placing it back in, all the broken Horcruxes were in it, and would remain there. Slamming the trunk closed he sighed softly, rubbing his tired eyes, before ambling towards the second bedroom/potions lab to replace the fang in the secret spot.

"Dobby?" called Severus, despite the fact the House-Elf remained in Prince Manor for now, to keep him safe from the Death Eaters he answered his call immediately. With the Death Eaters in the school, he wasn't going to eat from any of them, just in case they tried anything. Not that it would be easy to drug him, he was a Potions Master, and would recognize most poisons.

"How can Dobby help Master Severus?" questioned Dobby, appearing before the Headmaster.

"Bring me some dinner and a pot of coffee," said Severus, finally sitting down and actually relaxing his spine for the first time that day.

"Yes Sir!" said Dobby, as always eager to serve.

Even Dobby wasn't able to find Harry, he must have been somewhere extremely warded…perhaps even under the Fidelius Charm. He had wondered on and off if Harry was in Grimmauld Place. Unfortunately it was one place he couldn't go to, if the Order were in there he would be killed on the spot. Everyone believed either he or Draco Malfoy had murdered Dumbledore in cold blood. The Death Eaters all knew it was him so he wouldn't be surprised if everyone came to learn it had been he who had done the deed. The Order wasn't known for thinking before acting; despite the fact most of them were idiots. He hoped at least Moody and Shacklebolt realized he was on their side, they knew he had been training Harry. Surely it would penetrate their minds that he was spying? It didn't matter he couldn't approach either of them it was much too dangerous. If he was he at least knew he was safe, but the fact Harry wasn't getting in touch was what was worrying him the most.

"Here is Master Severus' dinner as requested." said Dobby, placing the meal in front of the wizard. "Master Harry's snake was seen in Prince Manor earlier."

Severus sat up surprised, "Zar is at the Manor?" asked Severus astonished. Why wasn't Harry with him? Why send him alone? He couldn't be using the Portkey otherwise he would have been alerted. One of the House-Elves had obviously seen him otherwise he wouldn't have been informed. "Is he still there? Is Zar still on the premises? Go find out immediately. Come back and inform me at once as soon as you know."

"Yes Sir!" said Dobby disappearing again.

Severus drew the food closer to him, he was starving, and he hadn't eaten anything all morning. He knew he needed to keep his strength up, but with his constant worry his stomach was in knots. The knowledge that Zar had been at the Manor somehow soothed him, Harry was obviously fine…why he wasn't coming himself did concern him but he was fine, finally he had irrefutable proof that he was alive and well. It calmed him down and untwisted his stomach enough for him to actually eat something. He ate hastily, just in case Dobby appeared any moment. If Zar was still there then he wanted to go and get answers.

Dobby didn't come back right away, in fact he took ten minutes to return, but given how large the manor grounds were and the little hideouts they'd created for Zar it was little wonder. By that time Severus had eaten all the food on his plate and worked his way half way through a large mug of coffee. He shouldn't be drinking it so late, but the day he'd had he wanted something to warm him up inside. He didn't drink tea much and he certainly wasn't a hot chocolate wizard.

"Zar is still at the manor, Sir." Dobby informed him.

"Thank you, Dobby, I shall be right there." stated Severus, standing up.

"Dobby can take Master Severus?" suggested Dobby, it would be much faster.

"Very well," stated Severus calmly, as soon as he spoke Dobby took a told of his leg and Hogwarts disappeared from around him. He found himself standing in the gardens near the forest of trees on the Manor grounds. His eyes widened slightly at how fast Zar came towards him, but he did nothing but jut him wanting to be stroked.

"Is Harry alright?" asked Severus, knowing Zar understood him, stroking his scales; he was so big now that he couldn't see the end of him anymore. He hadn't expected that Harry would be able to keep him, he was just so large, but he was grateful that Harry at least had him. It would have killed Harry to put Zar in the chamber, despite his Slytherin tendencies he was a pure heart, he loved unconditionally.


	65. Finding Out And Sirius Goes Too Far

A New Place To Stay 

Chapter 65

Finding Out And Sirius Goes Too Far 

 

"Go and get something to eat for Zar," stated Severus, knowing the House-Elf would immediately go and get food that Zar loved to consume. Rats weren't exactly nourishing, and since he was used to being fed…rats weren't enough. He wasn't sure exactly how long it had been since Zar had something decent to eat. Most animals were burrowing in for the coming winter; it was September after all, so there was absolutely nothing worth catching. Especially around the manor, they would probably avoid it sensing the very large predator. Zar usually hunted by himself killing whatever struck his fancy around Hogwarts, whether it was magical animals or Muggle ones further down. He didn't get his food from Dobby often, well not since he was a just a fledgling, snakes were fiercely independent creatures.

"My silly human won't let me get them," hissed Zar, dispassionately, Zar wanted nothing more than to kill or maim those hurting his human. "He said they wouldn't taste nice…" Zar flicked his tail, crashing it into tree, putting a rather large dent in it. Zar was extremely pissed off about Harry's situation, and wanted his humans to be happy again. They'd been miserable for three months, and he should know he knew how his human felt especially when he was on him.

Severus was surprised the tree was still standing; it showed the Basilisk had a lot of restraint and for a two year old that was impressive indeed. Harry had done well with him, not that he didn't already know that, he was present during nearly everything the past two years. Severus smirked, silly human indeed, but it was quickly wiped away, "Is he alright?" speaking English, thanking whatever deity up there that Harry had found and bought him the book so he could understand Parseltongue. It was a rare privilege, he hadn't figured out how to make it so he could speak snake language yet, but he hoped one day he would be able to. He didn't make any plans however, knowing just how fickle life was during war. The book was definitely one of his favourite presents he'd ever received. Then again what could compare from a book coming from the Slytherin line?

"He's angry," hissed Zar, "He can't get out the wards wont let him…the Portkey wont work."

"Can't get out?" repeated Severus, his eyes narrowed in anger. They were keeping Harry locked up against his will? Probably in some stupid attempt in keeping him safe. Bloody insipid idiots! If anything happened to Harry in their misguided attempt at keeping him safe he would kill the lot of them. He would prefer Harry to be within the wards of Prince Manor, nobody would be able to get to him. Grimmauld Place might be under the Fidelius Charm, but it did not make it safe. The Death Eaters would be watching the property, Bellatrix Lestrange knew about it. He prayed Harry wasn't stupid enough to pull idiotic stunts no matter how desperate, he had taught him better than that. Taught him to think on his feet, so that he didn't act first then think later, Merlin he hoped Harry didn't go and prove him wrong. "Is he with the Order?" knowing better than to ask WHERE he was, Zar probably wouldn't know unless Harry had told him.

"Yes, he says he can't hunt the Horcruxes," hissed Zar, enjoying the attentions he was receiving. His human's hands were much better than any rock or stone he rubbed himself against. Although it might have something to do with him shedding soon, normally Severus or Harry went to get it, shed Basilisk skin was expensive and greatly coveted. It made him preen and very, very smug knowing something utterly useless, yet coming from him was wanted.

"There is only one left, I have succeeded in destroying the cup," replied Severus, "Tell Harry to stop worrying, and if he tries anything risky I will put him over my knee." it wasn't the first time he'd threatened Harry with such a thing, and he'd never actually followed through with it. It was merely a way for Harry to realize how serious he is, he wouldn't tolerate Harry wilfully putting his life in danger.

Zar hissed out his amusement not saying anything in particular, just making a noise.

"How are you getting here?" enquired Severus, after a few minutes of listening to Zar's content hissing as he ran his hand over his thick shedding skin.

"Kreacher," hissed Zar, his tongue flicking out smelling everything in the vicinity.

"Of course," muttered Severus, Black must have somehow forbidden him from taking anyone OUT the wards, otherwise Harry would have surely thought of using him to get here. The 'anyone' in the clause wasn't exactly full proof, since Zar wasn't someone but rather a something. Why would Black even think about such a rule? He had no patience or time for Kreacher, he hated the House-Elf, loathed him in fact. Unless Harry was thinking that Black was smarter than he actually was and didn't think he could get out? Or was he the one underestimating Black? It wasn't worth pondering, but by doing this…Black was destroying any hope of reconciliation. Harry hated being locked up, he'd had enough of that during his childhood. Which would make him desperate, and desperate people did stupid things. No, he wouldn't think like that, he refused to; Harry wouldn't do anything to endanger himself.

Dobby appeared once more, magically floating the dead animals towards the hungry basilisk. Even doing this task, Dobby was inordinately happy, perhaps because he knew how much Zar meant to Harry? Who knew? He certainly didn't, but was glad for his help nonetheless. Arching an eyebrow, he turned his head away, not wanting to see the large basilisk tear the dead animals apart. Cutting up ingredients was one thing, this…whole other ball game he didn't want to partake in.

It was a good a time as any to talk to Dobby, "Would you be able to get around a Fidelius Charm if another House-Elf took you?"

"No Sir, without the Secret Keepers permission I wouldn't get in the property," said Dobby, sadly.

"I thought as such," said Severus, pinching the bridge of his nose, he wasn't happy with the Orders actions to put it mildly. Honestly they were going about it all wrong, he had assumed they were smarter than this, evidently not. Then again they did not know Harry; they had no idea of what he had been through. He did, he knew everything there was to know, and Harry had told him everything, admittedly not happy to begin with. He had basically forced Harry to talk about his life, knowing he needed an outlet and hadn't had one available before. That outlet had been him, helped by the fact he had refused to pity or baby Harry in any way. He doubted very much they were training Harry either; he needed all the help he could get. Now that the summer was over, he couldn't get last minute training in, now with Hogwarts in full bloom he would need to stay there to make sure the students were alright. He would never leave them alone in the mercy of the Carrows; he didn't care what those particular students thought of him.

He didn't want Harry coming near Hogwarts either. If only he felt that in his heart, but something told him Hogwarts would be where the world was free of the Dark Lord's tyranny or where it fell to its knees in front of a blood thirsty wizard in his quest to world domination. He would never truly want Harry to face the Dark Lord, no matter how much he trained him but he knew better. Fate would get its own way, as bitter as it sounded in his mind. No, all he could do was give Harry as much as home field advantage as possible.

His mind couldn't help but drift, he wasn't sure how much longer he could continue on as he was, and the war hadn't advanced this far during the last war. Yes the Dark Lord had almost gained control of Hogwarts and the Ministry but he hadn't. All he had done was remain in the safety of the castle, being summoned occasionally, supposedly spying. Now…here he was hopeless to prevent the torture and bloodshed that would surely occur once the students were within those walls. His heart was heavy, each day that passed it got heavier, and sometimes he wanted to end it all, just sleep and never wake back up. He'd felt something similar during the last war, but he'd been young, less weary, then when he'd lost Lily something in him died. Harry had woken it again in him, he was the reason he didn't give in, not only did he have to make sure Lily's son survived…but he wanted to see Harry become a grown man. What would Harry be like after the war is over? Would he allow himself to become his true self? If there was a chance he could get Harry to show the world who he really was, he would take it, his Slytherin in hiding son, he was extremely proud of him. He wanted to be able to tell him that, so no, he would do what he must, survive.

He'd be damned if he let the Dark Lord win.

Breathing deeply, he looked around, hating those moments of weaknesses that were all too frequent as of late. The animals Dobby had brought for Zar were already consumed probably swallowed whole. He was sniffing the air, as if sensing something he could never hope to.

"What makes you sad?" hissed Zar, his tongue tasting it thick in the air around them. He smelt like his other human did, Zar knew no fear, he didn't understand it fully, or any emotion come to that, as the saying goes you have to experience it to know it. What he did realize was that he hated his humans stinking of misery.

"A lot," confessed Severus wryly, before quickly changing the subject. "Make sure to tell Harry not to do anything stupid, I must return to Hogwarts before my absence is noticed." Hopefully Zar wouldn't mention that! He was supposed to be the strong one after all.

"Don't worry silly human, it wont change anything." said Zar, in all his wisdom.

Severus snorted, a smirk appearing on his face, it was at the height of irony that a Basilisk was giving him sound advice. Advice he knew all too well to be true, it didn't change anything. "Dobby?" called Severus, deciding to use the House-Elf for travel at least between to and from Hogwarts and Prince Manor.

"Yes Sir?" answered Dobby; he hadn't gone anywhere remaining nearby just in case the Headmaster needed him.

"Take me back to my new quarters." stated Severus, he needed sleep, tonight he take a mild sleeping draught. He didn't dare take anything stronger, he trusted nobody and nothing. So of course, a Dreamless sleeping draught was out of the question, the mild draught would only put him to sleep, not keep him asleep if anything should disturb him.

"Yes Sir." said Dobby, grabbing on and disappearing with the Headmaster of Hogwarts.

 

September the 3rd 

Harry smirked as he watched them all running around looking for him, it was too bad they didn't think to look UP. He had cast a Wandless, wordless Wingardium Leviosa so he was sitting cross legged in mid air, his head just a few inches from the ceiling. He had been getting his amusement this way for the past week; they'd thought removing his cloak from him would solve the problem. Just thinking about that enraged him; he could barely believe what Sirius was doing. He had thought as a thirteen year old he would be great to live with - but he was unbearable. If he wasn't asking him about his escapades from Hogwarts, (with Granger and Weasley telling him everything) then comparing them to things his father had done; he was trying to control him, act like a bloody parent or something. He wasn't sure what Sirius was hoping to accomplish, but it was getting tiresome.

There was only going to be a few ways out of the house that he'd seen, flying out of the door, when someone entered. Or beating the crap out of his guard and walking out and Apparating away as soon as he stepped onto the pavement. Then there was the third option, duelling Sirius, grabbing the bag of Floo Powder he kept in a bag in his cloak pocket and using the Floo Network to get to Prince Manor. Although summoning it would do the trick, but would it give him enough time to get through the Floo without being grabbed and followed? Of course he could do it while Sirius was sleeping, it would mean only one guard who would probably be tired himself and off guard.

Sirius wasn't as slow, with a lot of meals he had packed on the pounds; he didn't look like a skeleton anymore. In other words he was faster, stronger, almost the Auror he used to be. Sirius wouldn't want to hurt him, but he might especially since he was being overzealous in what he thought was protecting him. He hated him, truly hated him, three months he'd been locked up here. He hadn't even been able to open a window, fresh air…the sun; he hadn't felt it since stepping on the platform after getting off the train. Sirius didn't seem to care that he hated him either; he just kept insisting he couldn't 'lose him again'. He knew Sirius wasn't talking about him, it was never him, and it was James sodding Potter he saw. He was just trying to keep his best friend alive; he'd tried everything to get Sirius to see sense. Being honest, trying to get him to feel sorry for him, pity him, but nope, nothing.

He'd read every book in the library, and even found good books in Regulus' room in his trunk, books that Sirius definitely wouldn't want him reading. He'd already removed a great many of them, when he caught Harry reading a book on the 'Dark Arts'. Harry knew the difference. Reading the Dark Arts didn't make you evil, just like reading about light spells didn't make you good. It was the intent that made you what you were; he liked to think he was grey in regards to magic. With everything his dad had taught him, he definitely wasn't light.

Rubbing his temple, he wondered where Luna and Neville where and if they were safe. He wished he had done something more, had a way to get in touch with them. There wasn't, he had tried to think of something, anything all summer. He didn't dare send Kreacher, he didn't know how secure their homes were, or if they would attack him first think later. Plus it was risky enough using him to send and collect Zar. If Sirius got suspicious the cat was well and truly out of the bag. Kreacher couldn't lie to Sirius, couldn't lie to his 'Master' although he'd seen Kreacher work his way around it to his not so secret delight. Had they returned to Hogwarts? Did they dare risk it? Luna would definitely be with Neville wherever he was. Voldemort knew they were his best friends; they would be tortured and killed if they went near Hogwarts. Tortured for any possible information, and when they got what they wanted, or didn't in this case they would be killed just to hurt him.

Hopefully Neville and Luna would realize this and go into hiding, if anything happened to them he would kill Sirius. It was his fault; his insides were twisted in knots because he didn't know anything. It was like his fifth year all over again, there was no Daily Prophet to comb through either, to see what was up. He was being treated like a criminal…no, he was locked up because he was their weapon. They didn't want anything happening to him before it was time to send him out like a sacrificial lamb to take down Voldemort.

"Having fun up there, Harry?" said Fred as he and George entering the kitchen, closing the door behind them.

"How did you know?" muttered Harry, slightly petulant that they'd found his hiding spot. The twins had joined them four days ago, when their shop was attacked. For most part it was still standing, but they twins didn't want to go back to it and risk being attacked. They were 'blood traitors' and Weasley's the Death Eaters were just waiting on an opportunity to prune the family tree. Ron and Ginny were back at Hogwarts, Hermione was still there though - she would have had to be mental to go.

"Because you are thinking like us," said George smirking deviously, as Harry began to lower himself so they were level. They'd had a great deal of fun watching everyone squirm like worms on a hook these past few days. "We are the creators of mischief you know."

"You weren't," snorted Harry, "My father was as you well know."

"Yes along with Remus and Sirius, we know, but they don't think like us anymore. They gave up, grew up and now they don't have a mischievous bone in their bodies." said Fred, theatrical disappointment, his hands clutching at his heart. The Marauders had been revered by both him and his twin brother for years. They had such an idealised version of them, they'd been greatly disillusioned, sure it had been fun at first but now, talk about the biggest let down. They were nothing but kidnappers, keeping Harry locked up like a rat.

"Do you want to get out of here?" asked George, speaking extremely low, now and again glancing at Fred, who Harry noticed had an extendable ear on. They must be making sure nobody snuck up on them; the twins had always been really smart. Everyone underestimated them just because they liked playing with pranks.

"I can do it myself," muttered Harry, he didn't want the twins getting in trouble for helping him.

"Oh come on! Live a little!" egged Fred, grinning widely, he lived to cause trouble.

"No, just sit back and watch the show, if there is even one." replied Harry smirking deviously.

"Harry!" whined George, why should he get all the fun? It wasn't fair.

"They're coming," said Fred just as Harry opened his mouth.

"Not bad," said Harry, "They only took twenty minutes this time."

George sniggered at Harry's statement as Fred jammed the earwig in his pocket, before shoving a plate of food towards himself and began hastily eating. Harry watched both twins, stuff food into their mouths, just when the door banged open they jumped as if they'd been electrocuted - not that they really knew what it was, just that it was something Muggles used. The looks on their faces when they saw Harry, Fred and George calmly sitting at the table was comical as Fred and George's faces still gaping, mouth full of food.

Sirius shook his head furiously, stomping over to where Harry was sitting and taking a seat right next to him. His blue eyes were filled with fire, as he stared at his godson who seemed intending on him going grey or insane before too long. He didn't understand why Harry would risk his life, the Death Eaters would have him within seconds, and he had nowhere to go. He had longed to come with him, live with him when he was thirteen years old. What had changed so rapidly that Harry would try and do this to them? "Harry, this has to stop." warned Sirius, he had already taken his Invisibility cloak of him; he wasn't sure what else he could do. He wouldn't let him go, there was no way, and he wasn't going to lose him again. Nothing but death awaited him out there, death and torture, he would rather Harry hate him than be hurt.

"Then let me go," stated Harry calmly, he'd given in shouting and roaring since it didn't work. Although he did get amusement out of how freaked out they got at how calm he was at times. Thanks to his Occlumency training he was able to remain calm when all he wanted to do was take up arms and show them what he could do with his wand never mind without it.

Sirius grunted in frustration, "Where would you go Harry? Huh? Come on tell me?! He would find you!" snapped Sirius. They no longer said his name; even here they didn't want to risk finding out if Voldemort could get through the Fidelius Charm. "Your parents scarified their lives for you and you want to go out there and die?! Is that the way you want to repay them?"

If Harry was calm before…the look that descended over his face…looked as though he hadn't heard a word they said. The next second they knew he had, when he abruptly took hold of Sirius in a chokehold. Raising him off his feet, causing Sirius to begin choking, scratching at Harry's hand in order to force him to let go. His legs were uselessly kicking against Harry and the table, terror washing over him as his bulging eyes looked into the stone green ones of his godson.

Fred and George winced, moving away from the table, trying to find a safe place to hide. Everyone at Hogwarts, absolutely everyone knew never to mention Harry's parents. They'd heard how he blew up his so called 'Aunt Marge' even before then people just knew, even Malfoy hadn't dare say a word about them. It was like tugging a tiger by the tail, or insulting a hippogriff. George grabbed Fred, and had them sandwiched between the wall and the fridge, crouching down already feeling Harry's magic beginning to pulse. They however, made sure they could see everything that was happening - they wouldn't miss this one for the world.

"Let him go, Harry." said Shacklebolt, his hands up in surrender. If Snape had been telling the truth, he didn't want to risk Harry's wrath he had broken the Ministry's training dummies - at the age of fifteen. He was seventeen years old now, and had come into his magic; he would rather confront an Inferi without a wand. Oh, he hadn't been kidding, thought Shacklebolt, stumbling back as Harry's magic whirled around the room freezing them all in their tracks. They couldn't move even if they wanted to, every bone in their body was screaming at them at the danger amongst them.

Fred and George just watched on in awe, unlike the others they weren't affected or scared.

"Yes they died for me, but so did hundreds of other parents during the war, Molly would have died for her children too. Do not make it out as if they were the only ones and that I should be grateful for surviving. Until I was eleven I had nothing to be grateful about for surviving, how dare you bring them up?" growled Harry, sounding demonic.

Gurgling and gasping was his reply, shaking in disgust and anger Harry flung Sirius away from him causing him to bodily barrel into everyone else in the doorway. Arthur, Bill, Charlie, Molly, Shacklebolt and Tonks all crumbled to the floor breaking Sirius fall screaming and yelping. Seconds later the bag of Floo powder shot from Sirius' cloak and into Harry's hands and then the kitchen door slammed shut. Harry stared at the twins coolly, but seeing their grins just made him shake his head in exasperation. Was there nothing that could scare or at the very least make the twins cautious?

Harry's concentration on the twins was lost hearing the banging and spells being flung at the door. Jumping into the fireplace, he hastily flung the Floo Powder into the flames shouting out his destination. He was finally out there, and it was thanks to Sirius for pissing him off beyond all measures.

The twins turned to stare at each other surprised; they hadn't heard where he was going. Not only had he Wandlessly stopped the door from opening but silently and non-verbally put a spell on the fireplace to prevent them from hearing his destination? For the second time that day the door was blasted open, and Fred and George just watched the commotion.

"Where did he go?" demanded Sirius, looking around desperately, futilely, he knew Harry was gone, felt it the second he had disappeared. "WHERE DID HE GO!?"

"Do not talk to my children like that," said Arthur, his tone cool and annoyed. "This is your fault, blame yourself."

"TELL ME WHERE HE WENT!" snapped Sirius, not listening to Arthur as he completely lost it.

"We don't know," said Fred honestly, Sirius looked seconds from going nuclear, he was evidently hostile.

"There's a silencing spell up on the fireplace, check for yourself." George added, standing up, taller than Sirius was - they seemed to forget Fred and George were fully qualified wizards.

Shacklebolt headed over to the fireplace, he didn't even need to cast the detecting spell to realize the twins were right. Nonetheless he dismantled the wards and nodded to confirm the twins words. Harry had been very careful, he would have been proud of him if he hadn't done something incredibly stupid. Frowning in contemplation, the boy had been desperate to get out of there; he had assumed it was to be with his friends or something. What if it wasn't? Harry evidently wasn't stupid, where would he go? He obviously had something planned. Longbottom manor? That wasn't secure as evident by the fact the Lestranges had succeeded in getting through. Luna Lovegood? Even more dangerous, the house was admittedly better than the Burrow but not secure enough - the Death Eaters would surely check both properties for him.

Prince Manor.

Shacklebolt wanted to kick himself; of course, he had been living there during the summer these past years. Why would he go to Snape unless he was sure he hadn't done anything wrong? Was Snape still their spy? Could it be true? If that was the case who had killed Dumbledore? If Harry knew why hadn't he spoken up? Why would Snape stay at Hogwarts? He hated being there didn't he? The students, someone had to look after them. Looking up at the others who were all terrified for Harry's safety he realized he couldn't tell them. He couldn't risk it, if he was wrong he was wrong, but he wasn't going to put false hope into them or heaven forbid having Black mucking it up. He was an idiot; it was his fault the boy had run. So he chose to remain quiet, for now.

"Well there is nothing we can do now, other than hope the boy knows what he is doing." said Shacklebolt, standing proud and tall.

Moody stared at the bald wizard, both eyes regarding him shrewdly. It looked as though he would need to talk to the Auror and pretty soon.

"What? We need to start a search party!" snapped Sirius.

"You cannot go out, none of us can leave here and guarantee we will get back alive." stated Shacklebolt sharply.

"Harry can look after himself, he'll be back when he's ready." determined Moody. The boy had been able to magically conceal himself from his magical eye, he was smart obviously, resourceful, and had gotten away from them despite their best efforts to keep him there.

"He needs to be here, where I can keep him safe!" Sirius said loudly, rubbing at his throat absently, that had hurt like blazes when Harry had choked him.

"With what you just said? Harry is better off nowhere near you," said Molly, shaking her head in disgust. She would have gladly died herself to save her children; it had been the lowest of the low to bring up James and Lily like that. She didn't blame Harry for his reaction, but she did blame him for the fact her back hurt. She hadn't known just how strong Harry was, to throw a grown man across the room? Some of his magic had to have had a hand in aiding him in doing that.

"How dare you?" hissed Sirius.

"ENOUGH!" boomed Moody. "There is enough fighting out there without us doing it amongst ourselves. When the war is over then we can fight, not a second before." and they would win, there was no second option. Where was Potter? what was he doing? what plans did he have in that mind of his? he would need to make sure they were all ready for battle at a moments notice. Harry would know he would need help, he would be back - he needed back up after all.


	66. Prince Manor and Late Presents

A New Place To Stay 

Chapter 66 

Prince Manor and Late Presents 

 

The inhabitants Grimmauld Place had been tense for the past three months; Harry had been keeping them on their toes. Now though, it looked as though they'd just lost the war, and that they would soon be found and killed, or that someone close to them had all died and they'd just attended the funeral. The delicious food Molly had cooked had gone unappreciated by nearly everyone, Tonks, Moody, Dung, Hestia Jones and Shacklebolt were the only ones eating properly. They were Auror's used to being strong in times of adversary, Moody more than anyone; he'd been through hell and back. He hadn't been the one to bring in more Death Eaters than anyone else by sitting around. That was during the last war, he wasn't as fit anymore, which made him less able to keep up, but if they thought they could get one over him - well let's just say they'd be in for a surprise. There was still life left in him, and until he died he would continue to give the criminals the chase of their lives.

Molly tried her best to finish the contents on her plate, but it was so hard to do. She felt sick and worried all the time, two of her children were at Hogwarts that was filled with Death Eaters. Death Eaters that had no qualms about hurting them, and Molly hated that thought so much. They had reassured her that they were alright, but Molly knew how quickly that could change. Voldemort hadn't gained control the last time he was in power, things had escalated out of control and she was beyond petrified that her children, husband and herself wouldn't survive. She would give her life if she thought she could save them all, but life didn't work like that. At least not more than once and never in a way they could understand. Lily had given her life for her son, and it worked, some sort of blood protection had sprung up to protect him. Arthur was probably the same, he still had his job, and it was so difficult for him surrounded by Death Eaters all the time, or people just as terrified.

Accusing Witches and Wizards of stealing magic was at the height of stupidity, yet everyone was too scared of dying they were going along with it. Everyone was praying for a miracle, like they had the last time, but the niggling worry for her was could Harry do it? He was just child, she didn't approve of sending him out there to face such a powerful wizard. The same age of her youngest son, she wouldn't have let Ron within a hundred feet of him, yet Harry was being asked to? It was unfair, deeply, deeply unfair, all she wanted to do was smother him in love and keep him safe. Regretfully it seemed as though it wasn't something Harry wanted from her, he had rebuffed all attempts she made during the past three months.

"Hermione, dear, you need to eat more," said Molly, trying to get the seventeen year old to eat. They hardly saw her; she was either in her room crying or in the library. She'd found out why she was so upset, and quite frankly she wanted to shake the stupid child for her actions. She'd Obliviated her parents and sent them to Australia; they didn't remember having a child or their true identities. The girl hadn't been thinking right! And she had made sure she understood that. She could have brought them here; it was the safest place for any of them at the moment. Of course Hermione hadn't taken well to that, but the crying indicated that Hermione knew deep down she was right.

"I know," said Hermione quietly, continuing her quest to move the food around with her fork, looking distracted. She wanted so badly to go to Hogwarts, it was her last year, she should be studying and bullying Ron into doing his homework, getting ready to take her N.E.W.T's she was nearly eighteen years old, the oldest seventh year that would have been at Hogwarts as she always was. The Death Eaters wouldn't let her study at Hogwarts, she'd probably be taken straight to the Ministry and then placed in Azkaban when she couldn't prove she had a 'wizarding relative'. She wouldn't be able to fight in the battles that were to come from prison so she had no choice but to remain here and forget all her ambitions of Hogwarts, N.E.W.T's and her life afterwards. She's been furious when the Auror's revealed the Muggle-born registration committee.

"A word, Kingsley." stated Moody, calmly as he stood up; both of them had eaten everything on their plate.

Kingsley nodded briefly before he stood up and followed Moody who walked out of the kitchen and into the empty living room. He closed the door and put up silencing spells, before turning and thumping towards the seat keeping his head turned towards him. Sitting down, Moody waited patiently for Shacklebolt to speak, but when he didn't Moody grew impatient quickly and spoke. "What do you know, Laddie?"

"About what?" asked Shacklebolt, staring at his superior impassively.

"Don't get smart with me, laddie, I know you too well." barked Moody. Knowing the Auror was being deliberately obtuse with him and he didn't like it.

"I think he went to Snape," said Shacklebolt, caving in at the look on Moody's face. "It's the only thing that makes sense; he's not stupid he wouldn't have risked being caught. He knew he was going somewhere where nobody could get to him, the same place he's been staying every summer."

Moody frowned, his face deep in contemplation, what the Auror said was true, and Harry was smart enough not to get caught. If he planned on going to Snape, it must mean their spy was still on their side. He wondered if it meant that Snape hadn't killed Dumbledore after all, if that was the case who had done it? And why all the rumours saying that Snape had killed him? Trying to protect the one who had? There was only one person he could see Snape protecting, Draco Malfoy. Did the runt have what it took to murder Albus? What really got to him was the fact Albus hadn't fought back, he was powerful, and he would have given all he had, taken down as many as he could. Yet there had been no sign of any battle up there, it didn't help they couldn't find his wand, they'd had to bury him without it. Wizards were always buried with their wands, and it was a sin that Albus wasn't in his book. It was like burying them without their hand, utterly incomprehensible.

"Even you have to admit, nobody knows where the place is so he's safe." confessed Kingsley, watching the elder Auror get angry.

"I know boy." barked Moody, his tone grim. "Unless he didn't want to believe Snape was the one who did it, and he gets taken right to Voldemort."

"Albus had his reasons for trusting Severus Snape, we must do the same, unless we are doubting that Albus didn't properly make sure someone with dubious intentions not only teach at Hogwarts but spy." argued Kingsley. "Look at the Order, he made good decisions even you must admit that."

"Not always," said Moody, his eyes darkening as he thought of one particular order member. For all he knew the little rat was to blame for the Death of his fellow defenders and friends. Voldemort had to get his information from someone, and this was all before Snape entered the picture so he'd never had cause to suspect him of that. No, he knew Pettigrew had been traitorous in more ways than one. "He let Pettigrew into the Order."

"That's only to appease James, Remus and Sirius," added Kingsley, knowing that titbit from all the conversations he'd had with the older generation…the original Order members.

"We will know for sure soon enough if Snape is on our side," said Moody, both eyes focused on Shacklebolt.

Shacklebolt's confused brown eyes met his, "What do you mean by that?"

"He will be found somewhere public, stop the opposition, show he had the upper hand…if the boy dies everyone will give up." Moody told the Auror, his tone dark and jaded. "Best bet would be the Ministry, Hogsmeade or Hogwarts."

Shacklebolt nodded grimly in understanding. "I didn't tell anyone, we can't risk it. Especially Black, he could blow everything in our faces if he knows."

Moody snorted bitterly, "Course he would, the idiot needs to learn to grow up. I've been saying it for years, even when he was a junior Auror. It didn't help with Albus letting him away with doing whatever he liked."

Shacklebolt didn't even try and defend the wizard, knowing without a doubt it was true.

 

Prince Manor - Harry and Zar 

Harry flicked his wand out and removed the soot from his robes, looking around the very familiar sitting room. Almost immediately his shoulder relaxed and a peaceful smile spread across his face. He loved being here, the thought of never coming here again if he managed to defeat Voldemort hurt. Despite the rocky beginning, this was the only place he'd ever felt at home, how could he not? When he got to sleep in a bed, learn magic, actually eat food, had been taken care of, being praised for the things he did right and where he had received a gift for doing really well in his O.W.L's. In other words he'd felt normal, no matter what happened he would cherish the memories for as long as he lived.

Harry made his way out of the sitting room, through the hall and out of the front doors, leaving them open since Zar was still around here somewhere. His snake would be able to smell him so he had no worries about him thinking he'd been abandoned. No doubt Kreacher would have overheard he was away, and would know he didn't have to come for Zar. Which he mused, Kreacher would be grateful for no doubt, he would do anything he asked, but he was intimidated by the large serpent. It wasn't surprisingly really; Zar was huge to him, never mind a tiny House-Elf.

Out on the grounds, he noticed his vegetable patch had already been plucked, the vegetables taken out since they would go off if they were kept underground during winter. Maybe if he was lucky he could do it himself next year, sighing softly, already feeling better than he had in months.

"My human is finally happy," hissed Zar, causing Harry to jump in the air, twirling around to face his snake, he shook his head wryly.

"Don't sneak up on me, Zar!" admonished Harry, as his heartbeat slowly decreased into a normal rhythm.

Zar just hissed out his amusement, he was bigger than his human; he should have used his ears if he didn't want to be snuck up on.

"Are we staying here?" hissed Zar, his tail flicking back and forth, thumping loudly against the ground, thankfully without leaving dents in the grass.

"We are for now," said Harry, "I'm not sure for how long. Did you get something to eat?"

"Our human asked Dobby to get something," hissed Zar, "He also found and destroyed the cup. You aren't to do anything stupid or he will take you over his knee." hissing continued afterwards, meaning nothing in particular, just showing the snakes merriment.

Harry flushed at the fact Severus had told Zar to say that to him! It wasn't the first time he'd been threatened with that. He didn't like to think his dad would do it, but he also knew his dad didn't say anything without meaning it. He was seventeen year old; the thought of being spanked was humiliating. He knew the difference between what the Dursley's had done and - a would be spanking though, Dudley sure could have used some. Thinking of the Dursley's he wondered where they were, had they really left? If they had surely Dumbledore would have found them and forced them back to Privet Drive? Voldemort would have made sure he saw it though if he'd gotten to them. So he was only left with one possible explanation - they'd done a runner, probably abroad to get away from the potential war. He was glad they had, for if they hadn't he wouldn't have experienced two normal years at life.

Then the other words the snake had said penetrated his mind, the cup was destroyed! There was only one Horcrux left! Probably the most difficult one to get, Nagini, he would need to be very stealthy to get that one. He would need to get Voldemort away from his hideout to kill Nagini how he had no idea a poisoned rat? Although he couldn't see a snake falling for that one, too bad he didn't have Godric's sword that would have been handy - the same thing he'd used to kill the Basilisk in his second year. Any sword would do he supposed, how to get one though? Could one be conjured?

The flapping of wings distracted his thoughts, squinting, as if he couldn't believe his eyes, was that Pig? Why would Ron be writing to him? He'd made his feelings more than bloody clear to the red headed idiot. Although he hadn't bothered him as much as Ginny and her flirting or Hermione and her constant nagging. Ron had mostly taken a back seat, but still, why? Harry grabbed Pig as he flew around him, steadying him as he took the letter that was three times bigger than him. Shaking his head, he let the hyperactive animal go, turning around he wandered back in leaving Zar to do what he liked. It better not be Ginny, or he was going to go crazy, he did not like her, but since she hadn't hurt him he hadn't outright said anything. He'd made it clear he wasn't interested without hurting her feelings, but if this was going to continue he would need to tell her straight.

Wandering back through the hallway, he went back into the living room and slumped on the first available seat. With reluctance he opened the letter and found that it was definitely from Ron. It was his handwriting, he'd been friends with him for years, and he knew it very well although it was definitely messier than usual…as if he'd written it hastily and against a wall or something. The contents had him sitting up, his green eyes filled with anger and concern.

Harry, 

Please don't do anything stupid, but I overheard something. The Carrows were talking about Luna, she's been taken to Malfoy Manor, and Neville went nuts. He ran before they could do anything through, I think he's hiding out in the Room of Requirements; a lot of the students have started going there. Its better than the alternative, if anyone gets detention which is a lot of us usually in our new Dark Arts class, since most of the teachers when they can avoid it don't give us detention. You thought it was bad getting detention from Snape at the beginning of the year…this is ten times worse. We're supposed to curse those that have detention with the Cruciatus curse, if we don't then we end up getting cursed by the Death Eater children as well. Neville refused to do it and he got really hurt the first day back. It feels a lot longer than just a few days. Don't tell mum, I really don't want to worry her, and if she finds out I dread to think what she would do. She needs to keep safe, dad as well, they're just waiting for an excuse to kill us all for being 'blood traitors' so we've been telling her we are okay. 

Ginny tried to sneak out of the school, but she was caught, by Snape of all people! But he didn't do anything other than give her detention with Hagrid. We know detention with Hagrid really isn't detention, Snape probably does as well…he must have hit his head too many times. 

I'm going to try and talk Neville out of doing something stupid, I just wanted to let you know. I know you hate information being kept from you, see Harry, I did grow up just a little too late. Just know if I could go back and do things different know I would do it in a heartbeat. 

Ron 

Harry was alarmed by how…sentimental Ron sounded in that letter; he acted as if he wasn't going to survive the year. Then again if he was being held under the Cruciatus Curse it did meddle with your mind, it made you vulnerable. He should know he'd had to ensure it when he was fourteen years old. He knew the all too consuming madness that descended you, how you wished you would die just to escape it. His classmates were all being cursed with that? His hands balled into fists, as fury consumed him. They might annoy the hell out of him with their backstabbing ways, and believing everything they heard but nobody and he meant nobody deserved this. He couldn't let this continue, he had to get to that last Horcrux and bloody fast.

Then would be the moment of truth, whether he was able to defeat Voldemort or not.

The fireplace briefly flared green out of the corner of his eyes, before it exploded and Severus was coming out of the Floo. He looked tired, Harry swallowed thickly, and he'd never seen him look like this before. They'd just destroyed another Horcrux they should be feeling at least a little bit relieved. Unfortunately the war was preventing even just the miniscule of relief from being present. "Are you okay?" he asked attentively.

"I will be when this is over," sighed Severus, sitting down as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. "Rose? Two coffee's please." not even waiting for the House-Elf to come to him.

"I just got a letter from Ron…is it true? That Luna's been taken?" asked Harry, getting all the information he could, like his dad had taught him.

"She has," Severus confessed tiredly, "He is worried by your continued absence and silence. She is more useful to him alive right now, and compared to the children at Hogwarts she probably has it better." trying to soothe Harry, but he knew no matter what he said his son would do whatever he wanted.

"They're really using the Cruciatus Curse on everyone?" Harry asked weakly.

A curt nod was his reply; Severus' face was tense and troubled.

"I left a book for Longbottom, one on how to properly use the Room of Requirements, thankfully he seems to have done as I wanted. The students are starting to disappear, much to the Carrows chagrin." added Severus, his lips twisting in a small sense of satisfaction. There was nothing more he could do for them, not without giving away his true position. If he did that then the school would truly be defenceless, at least he was in a position to stop the Carrows going to far.

"Just like Crouch," said Harry, but it hadn't gone quite according to plan that time. Crouch had underestimated the situation; he hadn't even thought to ask Neville much to his mortification. He'd given the books to Neville, which in turn prevented him from finding out the information in the library. They'd been under Neville's bed the entire time; it was amusing in an ironic kind of way. So Crouch had been forced into a back up plan, using Dobby. He'd done his homework, he had to give the man that much, if it had been any other House-Elf he would have been waiting forever for that Gillyweed.

"I did get the idea from that situation yes," Severus said smugly, he knew everything after all; he'd made sure that Harry told him. He'd had Dobby deliver it the first night back, after having to watch students get detention before any class started. With the back talking, the yelling and stubbornness. They had learned very quickly though, such agony coursing through you would do that to anyone. Well perhaps not Harry, he had been too stubborn to give in even after two bouts from the Dark Lord of all people - and he was no slouch in terms of magical powers. Oh there was no denying Harry had been in agony, he mentally shuddered, just thinking about it, Harry himself confessed to wanting it to end just to make the pain stop.

"I have to end this," croaked Harry, he couldn't let anything happen to his friends.

"Going in too soon will not help matters," said Severus cautiously.

"No it won't, but if we plan this right we might just be able to end it." urged Harry, his dad hadn't said no, so he knew how desperate he was. He wouldn't just be saving his friends, but his dad too. He was now more determined than ever, by the end of the week the war would be over or he would be dead.

"I'm all ears," said Severus, eyeing Harry speculatively. "Accio!" he added.

Rose appeared once more, with a distinctive pop and gave her Master's their coffee's before leaving again.

Hearing the whooshing, Severus placed the mug on a placemat and easily caught the item he'd summoned, non-verbally putting it to its correct size. It was a gift, and Severus automatically held it out to Harry, watching as his eyes grew large - as they always did when he was surprised. He was always surprised when he received gifts, having gone his entire childhood without a single one, it didn't surprise him. In fact it just made him want to curse the Dursley's even more for their deplorable actions. As vindictive as he could be, he'd never deny any child in his custody a customary gift.

"Happy birthday, Harry." said Severus, as if it wasn't months late.

Harry grinned and eagerly tore into the paper, wanting to see what lay within. On top was a Gringotts letter, feeling slightly confused he opened it and found to his shock that his dad had given him a whole vault full of galleons. The gold key glinted in the light; he could scarcely believe the amount.

"It is tradition for parents to give their seventeen year old money, there was a time it would have been used to buy a property, for further education and to raise a family, or if it was a girl it would be used as a dowry for when they got married." said Severus, as always imparting information with everything he did. When the head of the family was still alive, the child, whether they were legally an adult or not, weren't allowed to just go into the vault family and spend the money. No the head of the family was the one in control of it, when he died the oldest son would take up the mantle.

"Thank you," said Harry breathlessly, he didn't care about the fact he had enough money, it was the thought behind it. Sliding the key back into the envelope keeping it safe, he placed it on the side of the armchair and took out his next gift. It was a large wooden box, black ash he thought, although it could be dark oak. Unclipping the bits at the front, he opened it and gasped in awe, there was absolutely everything in there he could possibly use while drawing. On one side Acrylic paints, with a five brush set, a bottle of brush cleaner, and a tray to put the paints on, moving it aside he found more underneath. Twenty four coloured pencils, seven pencils, twelve graphite pencils, two metallic coloured pencils, and a blending stick, a large very Muggle pad of paper, a sharpener and a large eraser. The other side hosted two hundred pastels in an array of colours, with an additional five other brushes. Under that was a wad of pastel paper he assumed. In the middle were water colours, more brushes, but a lot thinner than the others. A tray and a spiral bound book underneath it, the wooden box was massive and he was in awe of everything he loved it. He'd used all his other stuff, drawing out of sheer boredom when he wasn't reading in Grimmauld library.

Placing the wooden box aside, once he'd put it all back together and clipped it closed. He pulled out a tote bag, and found that too filled with art stuff. Gleefully he began to remove and examine everything, paint remover wipes, disposable palette pad, a painting knife, a bottle filled with gloves, more brush cleaner, fifteen charcoal sticks, a two more sets of brushes, oil primed panels, solvent, varnish, and eighteen tubes of oil colours. A foldable easel so he wouldn't need to crouch over to paint. At the very bottom and the last item in the present box, was a small wrapped box. Tearing into it, he opened it and found a watch, heavy, gold and it looked extremely expensive, and it had the Prince coat of arms on it. Harry swallowed thickly, unable to help himself he stood up and hugged Severus tightly, he had never felt more grateful to anyone in his life. Severus knew him better than anyone else; he buried his face in the crook of Severus neck when the hug was returned.

"Thank you," croaked Harry, trying to get his emotions under control.

"You are most welcome," said Severus, feeling a little overwhelmed with Harry's gratitude. He was acting as though he hadn't received presents from the Order - which he knew he would have. Becoming an adult was a very important rite of passage in the magical world, same with getting a familiar at the age of eleven. He opened his mouth to ask him but Harry distracted him.

"So, how are we going to do this?" asked Harry, reluctantly removing his arms before back tracking and sitting down on his seat. Absently lifting up his cup, just for something to do, surrounded by his shiny new art supplies, Harry honestly couldn't wait to use it. He half just wanted to forget about Voldemort and paint. It's probably what had drawn him to it in the first place.

"We still have another Horcrux to get, so until that is out of the way we cannot do anything." said Severus, thoughtfully.

"Not of if we kill two birds with one stone," replied Harry, staring at the floor, trying to think of ways to do just that.

"How do you suggest we do that?" Severus asked sternly, staring at his son wondering what the hell he was up to, what was he thinking?

"You say he's looking for me right?" questioned Harry.

"He is," stated Severus calmly.

"Well I'll make an appearance at Hogwarts, the Death Eaters will summon Him and I'll go to his hideout and take care of Nagini." explained Harry, before continuing on. "Once the snake is dead I'll come back to Hogwarts and finish it - for better or for worse."

"That would work, if the Dark Lord didn't take the thing everywhere with him," said Severus blankly. He wore the damn thing around his neck like some sort of scarf, enjoying the terror it elicited out of everyone seeing it.

"He does?" Harry said surprised.

"Indeed," replied Severus wryly.

"Well I suppose I'll have to do both," sighed Harry, he didn't know if he could do that, not without Voldemort killing him as he killed the snake… before he could defend himself against the evil wizard. Unless Voldemort let Nagini down, was distracted enough for him to kill the snake then fight him.

"How exactly do you plan on killing her?" demanded Severus, feeling the urge to just flee with Harry across the continent keep him away from the Dark Lord. Unfortunately all the training, the work they'd done had all come down to this moment, where he would see his son succeed or fail. Failure wasn't an option to him; he would die for Harry, if that's what needed to be done to ensure success.

"A sword, any sword will do, I killed a Basilisk with one at the age of twelve, Nagini shouldn't be a problem." said Harry, shrugging his shoulders with a devil may care attitude. "If it comes to it, I'll kill Him first then Nagini, he still won't be able to come back if it's gone right?"

"He shouldn't," conceded Severus slowly. "I will do it." he added firmly.

"Do what?" asked Harry confused.

"Kill the snake, you just concentrate on Voldemort." said Severus determinedly.

"Alright," replied Harry, worriedly.

Severus hissed as pain flared on his forearm, he knew without looking that his mark was red - he was being summoned. "I must go." he didn't dare linger; he pressed his fingers against the mark and let himself be transported to his 'Master's' side. He was surprised to see himself at Hogwarts…in the Shrieking Shack of all places - somewhere that held one of his worst memories. Nagini was hissing and sniffing around the edges of the disgusting shack. 

"My Lord," said Severus, bowing low, showing no signs of nervousness or worry. He had been playing this game longer than he cared to remember, he hadn't lasted this long by panicking.

"I have a problem, Severus." hissed Voldemort, his red eyes regarding Severus suspiciously.

"My Lord?" repeated Severus, meeting the red ones of the Dark Lord and felt a slither of fear crawling up his spine. Suspicion was not good, not good at all. Straightening up from his bow he stood proud and tall, never giving into the fear he felt in his heart. He hadn't truly expected to survive, hoped yes, but he never had great expectations. Still he didn't know what he was supposed to have 'done' so he may just be able to talk his way out of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go, so will Voldemort had the Elder wand and have figured it out or will it be a more severe reason? will Voldemort have found out about his cup and other horcruxes being missing? Severus was the last one in the vault after all...will Harry get a sense that something is wrong and follow? without the Horcrux in him there is no way for him to realize what's going on. Will Severus give Harry the reason to fight Voldemort with anger that he'd never previously known in his life? to avenge a man he loves like a dad?


	67. Chapter 67

A New Place To Stay 

Chapter 67

The Consequences and Happenstance of War 

 

"Dobby?" called Harry, as soon as his dad Apparated away; he had a very bad feeling about this. He didn't know why, but Voldemort didn't usually call him during the year. With him being Headmaster as well, it seemed even more unlikely; he hoped it was nothing bad. Harry moved his things aside as he waited on the House-Elf making an appearance. He couldn't leave Luna in Malfoy Manor, who knew who was there? Lestrange probably and Voldemort, he wasn't leaving here there for them to torture. He couldn't do that anymore than he could let someone freely take his wand from him.

"Yes, Harry Potter Sir?" answered Dobby, without his usual exuberance.

"Dobby you can still get into Malfoy Manor cant you?" asked Harry, quickly facing the House-Elf, seeing him without his funny attires on. He only had the Prince cloak on that he'd gotten for him months into staying at Prince Manor. The funny hats and things were all gone; it was as if he couldn't find it in himself to be cheerful. It must be bad for Dobby to be without his cheer…like he remembered him when he first appeared in his bedroom at the Dursley's, before he told him to sit down.

"Yes Sir," said Dobby sensing his Master's urgency.

"I want you to go there, the dungeons most probably; Luna is there, I want you to get her, and anyone else that's there only if it's safe for you to do it. If there is a slightest risk you come right back do you understand it can be done later." stated Harry, "Then go into the Room of Requirements and get Neville, he's going to do something really stupid if you don't."

"Dobby will be doing this for Harry, Sir." said Dobby standing up straighter, as if he could sense the importance of the task being bestowed upon him. He wasn't stupid, he knew how much Luna meant to his Master, as much as his Wheezy and Hermy had meant to him at one point. Popping away, he went invisible as he entered Malfoy Manor, knowing he didn't have long. If Lucius Malfoy was in the manor, he would know and be on his way quickly towards them. He wasn't the Malfoy House-Elf anymore, and he didn't know whether he could still move around the Manor undetected.

"Mistress Luna? Harry Sir sent me, we need to go now," said Dobby, holding out his hand not able to see anyone else there.

"Wait a minute, we must take him with us," said Luna, rushing towards the back of the cell, and helping an emaciated old wizard stand up. His white hair which usually stood on all ends, as though he'd put his finger in an electric socket, was greasy, grimy and dirty. He'd always been thin, but this was worse, he was twitching occasionally groaning in agony as Luna helped him stand. His sensitive ears heard someone coming, so his little feet ran towards them, grabbed a hold and popped away with them before anyone could get an ear or eye in the cell to see what exactly had happened.

"Where are we?" asked Luna, before she realized where exactly she was when something changed to fit her thoughts. Laying Ollivander down on the hammock, she immediately put a cover over him. She knew of Neville's plan to use this room as a hide out, they'd been planning on escaping there before she got caught. Harry's training he would learn hadn't been a total loss, she had attacked one of the Death Eaters, snapped his wand, grabbed her own kneed him in the balls before running. Unfortunately she hadn't been able to make it beyond the wards, and paid heavily for it, although she wasn't as bad as Ollivander was.

"LUNA!" yelled Neville, his voice fraught with relief, fear and exasperation. He wanted to hug her, but he didn't know if anything was broken or if she was in pain. Of course Luna, being Luna hugged him anyway; Neville was almost in tears of relief. He had been so worried for her; he knew what the Death Eaters could do. They'd done worse than murder his own parents after all, so if anyone knew it would be him.

"I'm fine," she crooned to him, rubbing his back as if he had been the one to suffer. "Did my dad go to your Gran?" she added terrified. They had said to her that they would kill her father for her 'defiance'.

"Both are safe, Gran is scary, she made him listen to reason." said Neville grinning widely, remembering the cryptic note he'd been given. Not even the Death Eaters would have been able to understand it, although seeing them try would have been amusing.

"Thank Merlin!" cried Luna, relieved beyond belief.

"I have to take you to Master Harry," said Dobby, staring at the pair of them, he didn't give them a chance to reply before he took hold of them and both were gone yet again.

Neville and Luna cursed under their breath; unexpected travel didn't half mess with your stomach whether it was forced Apparation, Portkey, Floo or travelling with a House-Elf. They both looked around the large living room impressed, even Neville, who lived in a Manor of his own, but none with this extravagant taste.

"Where are we?" asked Luna, gazing at everything, trying to take it all in.

Neville squinted at the large candlesticks on the fireplace, unable to see properly he walked over and his eyes widened. "This is Prince Manor, I had no idea Harry was related to them."

"That's because I'm not." said Harry wryly, surprised they didn't know already. Neville had been brought up as children were back in the day, he probably knew each and every coat of arms, and had them all imprinted in his memory so even he couldn't forget them. As his grandmother probably had before him.

"They're letting you stay here?" questioned Neville, "I thought the line died out, the last one was Eileen Prince she was disowned, nothing has been mentioned since."

"That is because she married a Muggle," said Harry wryly, glad to see them there and safe; he gave Luna a hug glad to see her whole. He'd went to get Zar, not wanting them to freak out if they saw him so he was safely on his arm once more.

"That explains it, so who is it?" asked Neville. Trying to think of a classmate who might be from the elusive Prince line, they would need to be good at Potions maybe even spell casting in general. That was what the Princes were renowned for, their ability to cast and create spells, there was entire books about them, but they stopped around two generations ago, the lines were all dying out.

"You don't want to know," replied Harry grinning.

Neville turned to stare at Harry properly, his eyes widened when Harry paled and swayed where he stood, what was happening? Then he fell to his knees, the crunch sounding abnormally loud in the room. He was clutching at his heart as if he was having a heart attack, Luna held him up, trying to get Harry to speak, tell them what was wrong. Either Harry didn't want to or wasn't capable, as he continued to clutch at his heart as if it was being chopped off.

"Harry, calm down, what's wrong? Tell us," said Neville kneeling as well. They were in a strange manor, with no way of knowing what the hell was going on, so he was a little on edge right now.

"Dad," moaned Harry, dear Merlin it hurt like nothing ever had. He didn't know why he was feeling this or how.

The magical strands were like living things inside someone, all different colours in nature, indicating different feelings for an entire network of people in one person's life. Of course not all of them were Harry Potter, and not all of them had his power. The strand for Severus was flaring, warning him that he was in grave danger. Now instinctively Harry knew it was Severus, he didn't know why, but wasn't that the beauty of magic? There was no true right answer to many things in life. With the Vow in play as well, there was no known way to be sure if this would be a unique thing, or if in the past it had happened to others but never been put into perspective.

"Dad?" muttered Neville, sharing a look with Luna, Harry's dad was dead…wasn't he?

Luna had a speculative look on her face, one she didn't care to share with him if the look he was receiving was anything to go by. He had a disgruntled feeling she knew what was going on…AND who it was.

"I need to leave," groaned Harry, staggering to his feet, "Dobby."

"Then we are coming with you," said Luna adamantly.

"Where?" asked Neville squeaking slightly.

"You might want to alert the Order as well." added Luna.

"You're right," said Harry, if he was going to reveal himself he may as well end the war. "Where is he, Dobby?"

"Hogwarts, the Shrieking Shack," said Dobby, not having to wonder for a second who the 'He' was. Dobby knew Severus Snape was like a father to Harry Potter, and he wasn't surprised to hear that Harry thought of him as 'dad'. He could always tell where his Master's were, as long as they weren't under the Fidelius Charm as he came to realize when Harry went off the radar.

Harry was already flinging Floo in the fireplace, shouting the name into the flames before sticking his head in. He found just about everyone there, but the ones he really cared about were the Auror's.

"Harry!" shouted Sirius, jumping from his seat and rounding the kitchen table. "Where the hell are you? Get through here now where I can keep you safe."

"Shut up!" yelled Harry, impatiently, he didn't know what was happening to Severus right now and he was terrified. He certainly wasn't in the mood to deal with Sirius right now. "I am not a fucking five years old that needs protecting, I'm an adult for Merlin's sake Sirius! Deal with it. I need you all to get to Hogwarts, as many as you all as you can, this is it."

"We will meet you there, laddie." said Moody, before Sirius could protest.

"There aren't a lot of Death Eaters there, but it could change within the blink of an eye, keep to the gates," suggested Harry, before he was gone.

"Someone trained him well," muttered Moody, as Harry disappeared.

"What do you mean by that?" asked Sirius, glaring at Moody.

"Arthur Diagon Alley, Shacklebolt, Hogsmeade. Get as many as you can, and get to Hogwarts before the Death Eaters make an appearance, remain stealthy just in case now the rest of you follow me." barked Moody, the commander in him coming out to play.

"I'm coming," said Hermione entering the room, wand in her hand a determined look on her face. If there was a chance for this war to end, and her go back to Hogwarts she would take it. She wanted to graduate Hogwarts and pass her N.E.W.T's, like she'd always imagined. There was also the miss of the thrill, for the past few years there'd been no mystery to keep her from overworking herself, there was just a certain adventure and excitement to fighting, breaking rules and saving the day, and actually getting away with it.

"I'm not going to be responsible for you out there, Granger, stay where its safe." said Moody, turning to face the others.

"I'm going!" snapped Hermione, indignantly. "Harry's the same age as me - I can keep up!"

"I'll watch out for her," said Remus, Tonks was pregnant and at her parents, she would be safe there.

"Fine," barked Moody, "Now move out!"

 

"Dobby take us to the shack, don't be seen if you can help it." said Harry, not even bothering to shake off the ash in his hair. He just turned back, grabbed onto his friends, praying they would survive. He would kill Voldemort then go after Nagini, the last of the Horcruxes. Dobby grabbed onto them, and they disappeared from Prince Manor, and reappeared outside the Shrieking Shack. Turning to Luna and Neville, Dobby remained where he was. "If anything happens to me, no listen," he said when they opened their mouths to protest. "If anything happens to me and Professor Snape doesn't survive, you must go to Riddle Mansion, its in Little Hangleton, there will be a snake there, and you must kill it. Do you understand me? If you don't want the war to start up again it must be killed."

Luna and Neville nodded mutely, their eyes wide with terror, jumping when they heard a tortured filled scream through the air.

Harry froze, he knew that sound all too well, he felt two emotions simultaneously, relief that he was still alive and horrified that he was suffering under the Cruciatus Curse. Harry began to edge forward, listening for any sound, moving the boards that covered the house just a smidge, and leaning in to see what was going on. He knew the windows and doors were all sealed closed, they had been that way during his third year, only to stop Remus Lupin from getting out and infecting anyone. In fact Dumbledore was the one to have the house commissioned like twenty eight years ago now, when Remus Lupin first started Hogwarts. If he wanted to get in, he would have to blast his way in.

"Where is the wand, Severus?" demanded Voldemort, sounding infuriated.

Harry perked up when he heard hissing, it wasn't Voldemort which could only mean that Nagini was in there with him. What wand? Did he mean Dumbledore's wand? The Elder wand? He didn't have it? It had been missing since that night, why would he think Severus had it? He'd been surrounded by Death Eaters the entire time. One of them could have taken the wand…unless he had been going around killing his Death Eaters off in an attempt to find out.

"What is it?" whispered Luna, "What is he saying?" assuming that Voldemort was the one hissing.

"The snake is in there with him," whispered Harry, aware that the damn house was empty and echoed. Which was why his dad's scream probably sounded worse to his ears. Taking a deep breath, this was it, time to do his 'destiny' live or die he had to try.

"Harry you have no weapon, how can you take out a snake?" whispered Neville urgently, shuddering beside Harry.

"Nagini, feast." hissed Voldemort, realizing he wouldn't get any satisfactory answer from him. He was furious, that wand would have been exactly the thing needed to defeat Potter. Using a wand he'd borrowed from Lucius Malfoy of all people, that was ill suited to him, needless to say he wanted that wand and he would kill even his Death Eaters to get it.

Harry didn't even think twice, he just shoved Luna and Neville away from him and summoned Zar from him. He wasn't about to let anything happen to his dad, not now not ever. He didn't care if he lost Luna and Neville as friends because he had a Basilisk familiar. "Kill Nagini, kill the snake!" hissed Harry, before blasting a huge hole in the wall. When he saw Nagini's face just inches from his dads, he panicked and shouted "DAD, NO!" but Zar was faster, much faster than Harry gave him credit for. He was crunching Nagini in half before he could realize what he'd done.

"Filthy snake, hurting my human!" hissed Zar continuing to crunch Nagini to dust as it hissed out in agony, not even able to form words.

Voldemort was standing there looking as though a feather would well and truly be able to knock him over. Not only had Harry Potter appeared, but he had with him a massive Basilisk, calling Severus Snape…his Death Eater! Dad, not make matters worse - his Horcrux had been destroyed along with his familiar. When the Basilisk turned towards him, he didn't think he just Apparated as far away from there as possible screaming in rage.

"Where do you think he went?" asked Luna, staring at the space where Voldemort had just been. Seemingly not caring that her best friend had just shouted that Professor Severus Snape, no Headmaster Severus Snape was his father. Nor that Harry had just summoned a Basilisk of his arm, and that said basilisk was still there, not even half of it inside the shack. Or that the 'he' they were talking about was the most terrifying Dark Wizard the Magical British Isles had ever seen.

Zar spat the snake out, not even wanting to eat it, sensing the wrongness inside of it, which was all but dying out now. He turned its great big head, prodding at the injured wizard. "Silly human," hissed Zar, shaking his huge head to the sides.

Severus to choke out a laugh, he'd just been tortured, called dad by Harry, and now he was being reprimanded by a Basilisk. He certainly hadn't expected all this when he got up this morning - to put it bluntly. Despite the fact he felt as though he'd been chopped into ten different pieces, his heart felt fit to burst with pride and awe. He would never be able to put a name to the emotion, he'd never in his life expected to be a father…or be accepted as one to Harry. He'd known Harry was fond of him…but to call and think of him as dad? Never in a million years, how could he have ever compared to James Potter? Yet he must have done something right for Harry to call him that.

"Are you alright?" asked Harry, apprehensive worried green eyes peered at him, as they crouched down beside him, barely able to do that with Zar's big head in the way. The Shrieking Shack wasn't that bloody big, to think it used to be an abandoned house, well it wasn't a house to him. While he did want to ask that question, there was another one he didn't dare voice. Had Severus heard him shout? What if he didn't care about him like that? He wasn't anything special, just a weapon and scapegoat to most of the magical world. His own family had hated him because he was abnormal and freaky. When Severus began to move, he helped him sit up feeling the strain even through the thick teaching robes he wore.

"We must leave," rasped Severus, his throat giving a spasm of agony when he spoke, he'd been screaming for what felt like forever. "The Death Eaters will be all over this place very soon."

"The Order are on their way, the last one's been destroyed, this is probably the best opportunity we'll ever get." said Harry solemnly. "You trained me well."

Severus sighed; he had a funny feeling Harry was going to say that, he didn't know how much use he was going to be. He would rather Harry didn't fight the Dark Lord on his own.

"Do you have potions on you?" asked Harry, knowing he did, he always carried a load around with him.

"Inner pocket," whispered Severus, not able to speak in his normal tone, his vocal cords felt as if someone was setting them on fire.

"Harry, you might want to hurry up," said Neville, his voice sounding serious.

Harry hastily dug into the cloak pocket, pulling out the potions kit and undone the string before laying it out hastily. Plucking three potions out, uncorking them and helping his dad to swallow them, knowing his hands were shaking too badly to do it himself. The fact he didn't glare or protest was revealing just how badly hurt he was. The worst thing about the Cruciatus Curse was that it didn't show how wounded you were, it was worse than a physical injury. The worst of the shaking stopped, but he knew it wouldn't completely go away, not for at least twelve hours. "Death Eaters?" asked Harry.

"I don't know but there are a lot of people out there," said Neville, Hogsmeade was coming alive with people.

"I told them to get as many people as they could." said Harry, "Just in case."

"What if he's left?" Luna asked.

"He has not left, he is too rattled for that, he has gone to Hogwarts, to get the Carrows, and once he has them he will call the rest of the Death Eaters." stated Severus, standing up, leaning against Zar momentarily. Putting two additional potions into his trouser pocket, he had no idea how long tonight would be. The bag was then stashed into the pocket it was always held in, Zar hissed softly before beginning to back up, and out of the shack giving them enough room to get out themselves.

"Well he can't Apparate into the school, so chances are he is still getting there, if we can get in and stun the Carrows then there wont be a way for him to call the other Death Eaters." said Harry, looking down at all the people in Hogsmeade. Ducking under the wall he'd blasted apart he caught sight of Dobby watching everything with apprehensive green eyes. "Dobby could you get into Hogwarts and bring the Carrows down? Without hurting yourself?"

"Yes sir, Dobby will do this." said Dobby, his green eyes twinkling; oh he wouldn't be doing it alone…no the other House-Elves were going to help.

"Wait, take us to my rooms before you go." said Severus.

"The tunnel could take us into Hogwarts," argued Harry, spelling Zar back onto his body, after giving him one last stroke.

"All entrances are being guarded, can't you feel them?" stated Severus, arching an eyebrow wondering if anymore arguments were forthcoming. Obviously Harry couldn't, which surprised him as Harry had always been badly affected by the Dementors.

"He's right, there's Dementors everywhere," said Neville. "You gave me that book didn't you? I thought it was Professor McGonagall." It was him who was trying to help the students, he'd given him the book on how to work the Room of Requirements.

"No, it was I." replied Severus, staring at Neville with pride at how far the young wizard had come from being a bumbling idiot he knew for years.

"Alright, Dobby take us," said Harry, wishing he had his bloody map. Tightening his hold on his wand, just in case there were any surprises waiting for them. The House-Elf held onto all of them as he transported them to the Headmasters office, in awe that he was being trusted in more ways than one. Once he was sure they were safe, he disappeared, he had two Carrows to hunt down with the help of the House-Elves and he had to find out where the nasty Dark Lord was for his Masters.

"Its clear." said Severus immediately; he should know the blood wards he had placed on the rooms were still standing.

"You got moved?" asked Harry looking around the room.

"I couldn't live in the dungeons and work up here now could I?" replied Severus sardonically.

"Yes, it's called the Floo system." said Harry grinning in amusement, he'd missed this, the day to day him and his dad.

"Careful," warned Severus, but his eyes told Harry that he didn't mean it, he would have felt amused but he was too sore for that.

"Do you have the map here?" asked Luna.

"No, its in Sirius' house, I didn't pack it when I escaped." sighed Harry. "We are blind."

"Kreacher!" snapped Severus firmly. The House-Elf had bonded with them, due to the fact they had helped Kreacher fulfil Regulus Black's last wish, which was to see the locket destroyed. Perhaps it was enough for him to summon him; if not well Harry might have better luck than him.

"What can Kreacher do for Master Severus?" asked Kreacher, answering the call.

Severus gestured for Harry to do away with a wave of his hand.

"Kreacher bring my trunk here please, and my cloak…if you can find where Black hid it in a hurry." said Harry, not wanting his cloak left there, he didn't want to step foot in Grimmauld Place again - ever. He wasn't risking being locked back up again like a criminal.

"He removed your cloak?" said Severus, anger burning in his veins that was until he remembered doing the same exact thing and it stopped the anger in its tracks. By the time the haze left his mind, he realized Kreacher had already left, each second felt like an hour, despite the fact they'd probably gotten to Hogwarts before the Dark Lord had.

"Yeah," said Harry, an odd twinkle in his eyes; as if he knew what Severus was thinking about.

Luna and Neville were in the corner watching them closely, Neville wondering how the hell he'd missed it. All the times he'd left his bed and not come back, he had suspected something but that was - Harry dating a Slytherin or something, not that he was actually at Snape's! The run over detentions where he'd worried about him…he felt like an idiot. The eyebrow thing and the sarcasm it was all Snape! Oh there was no denying James Potter was his biological father, the resemblance was there but he obviously came to respect and love Snape at some point to call him dad. They'd acted like they still hated each other in classes…there was no telling when exactly it happened. Of course, thought Neville, closing his eyes…summer after fourth year. He'd actually came back to Hogwarts not looking like a waif for once, his worry eased off, he didn't need to worry about Harry being hurt then.

Kreacher returned with the two items Harry had requested, before leaving again.

Harry immediately yanked open his trunk and found the map on top, moving over to the table, he spread the map out and muttered the words to activate it, tapping his wand against it. 'I solemnly swear I am up to no good' and ink began to spread across the pages, everything showed up other than House-Elves.

"He's just getting into the castle now," said Harry.

"Where?" asked Neville looking at the map, he didn't see Voldemort's name anywhere near the castle.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle is his birth name," explained Harry, tapping at the dot.

"Doesn't sound scary," commented Neville.

"It was too original for him, he didn't like it." said Harry rolling his eyes.

"The Carrows are not moving, good, Dobby has succeeded." said Severus, finding the twins on the map the Defence Against the Dark Arts broom cupboard.

"The students need to get to safety in case this all goes to hell," said Harry.

"I'll get the Gryffindors," suggested Neville.

"I'll inform the Ravenclaws." stated Luna.

"Hardly fair of the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins." Harry pointed out.

"The House-Elves could get them to safety," said Severus.

"But where?" said Harry, "Death Eaters might appear all over the place."

"Floo out from their common room," stated Severus, "I'll get four Hogwarts House-Elves to inform the students."

"That's the Order here," said Harry, noticing a mass of dots appearing at the gates of Hogwarts.

"We must move swiftly, there are Death Eaters everywhere, they will realize something is going on." said Severus.

"Then lets go." said Harry.

Luna and Neville were closer to the door and opened it, stepping out waiting patiently for Harry and Severus to join them.

"No matter what happens, know that I am proud of you…son." said Severus, for the first time in a long time, allowing his emotions to show. Or as Severus would put it 'wearing his heart on his sleeve'.


	68. The Ashes of light or the Obviation of the dark - Either Way It All Ends

A New Place To Stay 

Chapter 68 

The Ashes of light or the Obviation of the dark

Either way - It All Ends 

 

Harry felt a lump lodge deeply into his throat, almost preventing him from being able to breathe. All he had ever wanted was a family, big or small just someone he could rely on, love and just know someone was there for him. He had always thought it was a useless wish, after all the Dursley's hated him, if they hadn't called him all the names under the sun he'd still know, after all he'd slept in a cupboard, children weren't brought up in cupboards for Merlin's sake. That wish had becoming almost overwhelming when he was eleven, and saw his parents in the Mirror of Erised. He had latched onto the first adult to really want him, which was Sirius; hell getting out of the Dursley's had been so within his grasp until it went all wrong. It had devastated him, but back then he hadn't thought about the fact Dumbledore wouldn't let him leave the Dursley's. Even if Sirius had been freed, he wouldn't have been allowed, he knew that. Now though, he was ever so glad about that fact, he wouldn't have a father figure in his life, wouldn't have Severus.

Sirius wasn't father material, he knew that now, knew the difference. Up until he'd turned Seventeen, Sirius had been absent for most part, when he did write to him, he never asked about his grades, school work, if he needed help, telling him to stick in at school. He'd insulted his mum, in a round about way, by telling him that Severus had only ever been friends with Death Eaters. He never told him anything, not about his parents, the war, what they were doing, despite the fact he could have - he only didn't because he'd been told not to. Then when he was old enough to think for himself, they practically kept him prisoner in Grimmauld Place. No, Sirius wasn't father material, why his father had insisted on naming Sirius his godfather he really couldn't understand.

Severus on the other hand…was a sarcastic, powerful bloody scary wizard when he wanted to be not to him though. He had a way with words that left you no doubt what he was truly passionate about. He'd only seen the front Severus used never thinking for a second he was anything other than a mean spirited spiteful teacher, well he was, in a way, but he also cared about the students, otherwise he wouldn't have done what he had - stayed on as Headmaster to protect them. He protected those he cared about with a fiery devotion second to none. The minute he was in his care, he was looking after him, albeit grudgingly, setting a sense of structure, giving him chores to do - too many if he hadn't already been used to doing what he had. Forcing him to talk about things he was keeping bottled up, helping him with occlumency, training, potions and building him up so he didn't look like an underfed waif. Giving him the support he desperately needed and the courage and tools so he might actually have a chance of winning the war. Along the way making sure he did his best at Hogwarts, despite the fact it had been ingrained in his mind never to do good. He was and made, in Harry's opinion, a great father figure.

He'd never been anyone's priority, well other than Dumbledore's but that was to ensure he won a war to save the hides of the wizards and witches who would rather sit at home. To hear that Severus thought of him as a son, quite literally made him feel as though he was on cloud nine. No drug could ever come close to the euphoria rushing through him right now. With great difficult he actually managed to swallow the lump lodged in his throat. The word continuing to circle his mind like a broken record…son, son, son, son.

Turning to face Severus, he moved and wrapped his arms around him, hugging him close, his eyes tightly closed to stop himself from becoming even more emotional. He hadn't cried in years, the last time had been when Sev…his dad had given him pictures of his grandparents who he hadn't known or even know what they looked like. He could literally taste his dads shock in his stiff joints, but just as Harry was about to pull back the long arms wrapped around him in turn. He was probably too old to be hugging 'parents' but he didn't care right now. He hadn't grown up with the luxury, and he wanted to know how it really felt even if it was just once.

Luna peeked through the door which was slightly ajar, smiling softly at the image they presented. Harry was so tall, almost as tall as his self proclaimed 'dad' there wasn't much height difference between them. Harry was much more muscular than Severus, who was tall lithe and quite frankly cut an imposing figure quite well. She prayed they could all make it through this night, she couldn't imagine the devastation either of them would feel if it was the case. It was obvious that they'd just confessed to each other that they saw the other as father/son. Luna saw the world differently; she'd seen how he'd stiffened upon yelling that word out of impulse. How worried he was when he approached Severus afterwards, terrified that maybe he wouldn't feel the same way.

"Everything okay?" asked Neville looking back, he'd just been about to ask Harry to check the map. Dobby was taking a long time to return, if he even would. He noticed Luna was standing just slightly away from the door, so he wandered back slightly confused about the hold up.

"They'll be a minute, they're just…taking a few minutes." said Luna, knowing her boyfriend would understand completely. She always left him to talk privately to his own parents for a few minutes. She knew his Gran constantly hounded him when they used to visit his parents as a child, so she liked to give him time on his own but be there for him too. They had visited just a few months ago, when summer first started, knowing it wouldn't be safe to return. Neville was terrified the Death Eaters would do something to them. Yet him or their Gran couldn't give them the twenty four hour care they needed, he had just had to hope that Voldemort didn't care about them since they weren't a threat to him.

Neville predictably nodded his head, a thin drawn line making its appearance on his lips. If Snape was right, then they were in for one hell of a battle. Part of him wanted Snape to be wrong, that Voldemort would leave, he was terrified quite frankly. Not only for himself, but for Luna for Harry…and the entire wizarding world if Voldemort won. If a lot of people died today, it would crush any resistance, which mean nobody would be willing to fight. They would bow before Voldemort and accept the changes.

Whether Harry liked it or not he was everyone's hope, their beacon, and if he died all hope would fade with him. It was a lot to put on his friends shoulders, but regretfully it was all too true. Even he saw Harry as their chance of freedom, it was wrong of him, but he also saw the normal yet powerful teenager that he was. Harry was human just like the rest of them, and he would do anything to help Harry - even curse Voldemort himself if it gave Harry the chance he needed to deliver the blow that would end him. As long as Luna survived this and had a long and happy life, he would be perfectly content. Luna was his life, and without her he may as well be dead.

"Let's go," said Harry, as both he and Severus exited the 'Headmaster's' quarters and begun to walk down the spiralling staircase and into the office itself. It was vastly different from Dumbledore's office, sparely furnished, very different from the cluttered, brightly lit, red and gold office it had been just four months ago. Nobody knew that better than Harry, since Luna and Neville weren't troublemakers or someone Dumbledore took an interest in.

"Who's on the map? Have the House-Elves got everyone out?" asked Neville, inwardly wondering why they were staying if none of the others were going to help. It was their school too, quite frankly if they all left they were cowards. Opening the door he peered out worriedly, as if suspecting a hoard of Death Eaters were just waiting on them. Once he was sure the coast was clear he wandered out, everyone followed all tense, worried and apprehensive. All of them were nonetheless extremely alert, wands at the ready keeping an eye on their backs.

"Oh shit," muttered Harry, stopping in his tracks as he finally looked at the map, his heart sinking.

"What is it?" demanded Severus, peering at the map, trying to figure out what had alarmed Harry so.

"Well let's just put it this way, we can be sure of the Death Eaters coming…Lucius Malfoy is with him now." Harry uttered grimly.

"He must have seen the Order rallying people and figured it out. Be very weary of him, it is not just because of his money that he is high up in the ranks." warned Severus tersely. "Be ready, lets just hope we can put up one hell of a fight." with that they ran down the stairs, and for once in Hogwarts history, the stairs didn't give any wrong turns. Somehow against all odds, as if the school could sense how urgent it was, was ensuring they got to where they wanted post haste. It was just like Malfoy to screw everything up; there were only so many Order members, and a legion of Death Eaters. They had to gather up the teachers before Voldemort saw them and killed then on the spot. They wouldn't be willing to listen to him, so his son would have to be the one who alerted them.

"It's going to be impossible, it's not just Death Eaters either, but Dementors." said Neville, his forehead wrinkled as he continued to worry relentlessly. He could cast a Patronus, it was one of the most proudest memories he had at Hogwarts, being able to successfully cast it. It was what Harry said though that fuelled his Patronus, that out of everyone he would want him, Neville Longbottom! To have his back. His Patronus oddly enough wasn't an animal, which was extremely rare which added to his pride. A large carnivorous plant, a Venus fly-trap, he'd never been different so he liked it. "There are so many of them."

"The Order is doing everything they can to help." said Harry, his green eyes glinting worriedly as well. "I won't think badly of you if you decide to leave." in fact part of him would prefer it, at least that way he'd know his friends were safe.

"I don't think so," snorted Neville, but wasn't surprised by declaration. Harry had always tried to do everything alone, but Ron and Hermione had always insisted on going. Just like he and Luna would insist on staying, fighting and doing all they could to help win the war. It was their world, the only one they knew in fact, unlike Harry and apparently Snape who were both familiar with the Muggle world. Not that they would be safe in that world if they went into hiding - unless they did it abroad.

"Worth a try," muttered Harry, smiling half-heartedly as he stepped off the last step and onto the ground floor - right next to the entrance hall. While it would be potentially better battling in Hogwarts, with the places to duck and hide, he couldn't bear it if anything happened to the school. It could also prove to be tricky and enable you to get trapped, there were pros and cons and Harry believed the cons were considerably bigger.

Severus gave the two students with his son an impassive look, but his eyes were glinting with pride of all things. He had never given those two students the time of day, believing them to be less than mediocre wizards, until their fifth and fourth year respectively, since Luna Lovegood was indeed, one year younger than the boys. Now look at them, standing proud and strong in the face of the most difficult war to come to the British Isles. He was as worried as they were, probably more so, after all how could they possibly win with so little help? Sure Harry said the Order was trying to get help from the magical population, but he didn't think it would be much.

"That's them here," said Harry staring out at the fighting that had suddenly erupted like fireworks at the gates of Hogwarts. The huge mass of black was almost overwhelming. As soon as the first spell left one of their wands he could see it rousing the Dementors curiosity as they swept into the area, and only then did Harry feel them.

"Wait," said Severus grabbing into Harry's arm, stopping him in mid motion.

"What it is?" asked Harry, not glaring arguing or just running off, he waited for his dad to reply before he made any sort of comment.

"Alert the teachers," stated Severus "Is he still at the bridge?"

"Patroni message? What do you want me to say?" asked Harry, "How could they have missed all this!?" pointing out at the sea of cursing wizards. It wasn't as if it was night time, they had no need to be asleep, if that was the case.

"We didn't, Mr. Potter." said Minerva crossly, as she stalked up to the group, the other Head of houses with her. "Step away from him."

"Oh, shut up," Harry said scowling at her; he had better things to do than put up with her theatrics.

"Harry," warned Severus, while he agreed with him, he couldn't exactly encourage him to talk to people like that. Although his reprimand was swiftly cut off by Minerva's screeching.

"How dare you, Mr. Potter! How can you consort with the enemy? He killed Albus Dumbledore!" snapped Minerva, disapproval written across her face. Harry would have been able to see it even if he still needed glasses, which of course he didn't. Since it was the first thing that had been fixed properly when he began staying with his dad.

"Oh were you there that night, were you?" spat Harry, glaring at her in vitriol.

Filius stared at Harry, then at Minerva; he had believed Minerva when she told him about Severus being the culprit for killing the Headmaster. Yet Mr. Potter was saying he hadn't, or at least implying he hadn't, curious indeed. He didn't like the thought that he'd been treating Severus quite distantly and harshly for no reason at all. This really wasn't the biggest problem they had right now, they should be down there, helping those guard Hogwarts from the Death Eaters. Although it would be a good idea to deal with the ones that were actually inside her walls. He was about to open his mouth and state as much when Minerva spoke again.

"Enough, Mr. Potter, clearly you've been given one too many liberties." said Minerva, twitching in irritation. Snape obviously still had some sort of hold over Harry, she'd never have thought it was unsafe for Harry to be free of the Muggles, but apparently she was gravely mistaken.

"Severus Snape did not kill Albus Dumbledore, I should know I was there." hissed Harry loud enough for them to hear, but for anyone trying to eavesdrop they wouldn't have been able to hear. Not that it mattered now, his dad's position as a spy was well and truly discovered.

"Really there is a better time for this…discussion." said Sprout, the short plump witch cautioned them. She wasn't surprised by it; there was always a certain tension in the air during battles. It made them nervous, agitated and usually required an outlet, which is where the expression 'save it for the enemy' came from. She ignored Minerva's snort of derision at Harry's declaration, she honestly didn't know who to believe, a trusted colleague, or a young boy who's always been called a liar and always vindicated and proven without a shadow of a doubt that he'd been truthful all along?

"Indeed," uttered Severus, silkily, not even the slightest bit perturbed by Minerva's glare, he had been hurt at first, just a little. He had quickly washed his hands of her in the end, Harry was right, she was the sort of person that couldn't see the truth in front of her, see the obvious or trust in her own instincts. She saw what she wanted to see or constantly jumped to conclusions, like seeing them duel she automatically though there was something…untoward happening between them.

"Who's with him now?" asked Neville.

"Both the Carrows, Lucius Malfoy, um…Bellatrix Lestrange and the two Lestrange bothers and Selwyn." Said Harry letting them see.

"Everyone at the gates is busy, not all of them are Death Eaters," said Severus, looking down at the parchment, regret the most prominent emotion on his face. "A great many of them are under the Imperius Curse."

"Who?" asked Harry cocking his head to the side.

"Pettigrew, Malfoy, Lestranges," said Severus, understanding what Harry meant without needing to be told further.

"Then they must go first, it might help save some people," said Harry, the Imperius Curse would fade off whoever was under it when the wizard or witch died that was casting it dies or was extremely injured, perhaps even just stunned they weren't completely sure. Death brought to the Death Eaters all those under the Imperius Curse would be released, but injured or stunned they had no way to know.

"Are you talking about murder Mr. Potter?" asked Minerva her tone disapproving.

"Oh I'm sorry, professor, would you prefer innocent people kill others before being killed themselves or arrested as Death Eaters and having to live with what they've done?" said Harry, his voice calm and composed. With Veritaserum he would make sure those who could be innocent were found, and the real culprits sent to Azkaban. It wouldn't be like last time, with real Death Eaters getting free by claiming they were being held captive under the Imperius Curse.

"Let's go," said Neville grimly, "We are wasting our time here." pointing his wand in front of him and taking off, the others surprisingly or perhaps not surprisingly followed him. Flitwick looked between the retreating figures and Minerva, before he hastily made his decision and his small legs ran towards the group, leaving Minerva and Sprout on their own.

Sprout didn't remain with Minerva long, before she also left with them, not glancing at Minerva even once; they were fighting a war not taking sides. Which is exactly what Minerva would think they were doing, she'd always been too proud at the end of the day, but that was a Gryffindor trait through and through.


	69. Chapter 69

A New Place To Stay 

Chapter 69 

The Final Battle 

Minerva watched the retreating figures feeling as though she’d been punched in the gut, especially as Filius and Pomona joined them as if it was the most natural thing in the world. She looked torn, she didn’t want to help Dumbledore’s murderer but she didn’t want to see anything happen to her colleagues or her Gryffindors. While it was true Luna wasn’t a Gryffindor but rather a Ravenclaw, two of her Gryffindors were there. She had sworn a oath to look after the children and that’s what she would do, even if it required working alongside someone she wanted to see dead. Yet the niggling feeling wouldn’t leave her alone, what if what Harry was saying was true? But yet she knew just how desperate Harry had been for a family, he would have believed the best of anyone if they paid any attention. She’d heard the Carrows themselves talk about it, she’d seen him coming from the Astronomy tower, really it wasn’t difficult to put the dots together and realize the truth. He’d let Bellatrix Lestrange in the school! That…that disgusting woman, she had been forced to bite through her tongue otherwise she may have just killed the woman right there and then. That unfortunately wouldn’t have accomplished anything, well other than her being killed and that wouldn’t enable her to look after her cubs now would it? Regretfully not. 

Taking a deep breath, she began walking briskly to catch up with them, which was difficult even walking fast, since they were too. Unsurprisingly it was Filius she caught up with first, he gave her a look and nodded in pride, Gryffindors were too proud in the diminutive Wizards’ opinion. She had finally given up her pride to do something against her so called ‘morals’ and help people. Personally he didn’t know what to think about the entire thing. Severus Snape had always been loyal to Dumbledore, ever since he became a teacher, and there had never been an ounce of doubt in his mind about it either, until now. Then there was Harry Potter, who Filius personally found to be very like his mother. Especially these past few years, studying, participating in class yet not being an overwhelming presence in the class, like Granger. He had yet to factor in a lie from the young boy, at least nothing big, perhaps a few white lies here and there, but who wasn’t guilty of them? If Harry said that he’d seen it and Severus hadn’t killed Dumbledore, perhaps they were wrong after all. 

“What do you think?” Filius asked Pomona, speaking lowly, so nobody else could hear, considering they were both smaller than the normal wizard, they could speak without being overheard. Trying as he may to continue to keep up with them, they were much faster than he was since his legs were tiny. 

Sprout immediately looked over at Harry as they continued walking, gazing up at the magnificent seventeen year old, he had changed so much in the past few years. Ever since the Dursley’s had disappeared off the face of the planet, she wasn’t meant to know, but she and Filius had overheard Dumbledore talking about it one morning with Minerva before breakfast. As any polite person, she had pretended to hear nothing as she greeted them happily. He was different, whoever had looked after him had done a good job of it, that much was obvious. He’d come back to school answering questions, and participating in classes, and his end of the year exams had very well done, and his O.W.L’s. “I think he’s telling the truth,” said Pomona, honestly. The young man had brought back the body of her Hufflepuff, proving just how loyal he was. He could have left Cedric there, and got himself out of the situation, he hadn’t, and she would like to repay that kindness in turn if possible. “He’s never been much of a troublemaker or liar.” 

“I have a feeling he’s leaving something out through, he has this look in his eye.” said Filius, giving a sudden surprised grunt when he walked into Neville Longbottom, they had all stopped for some reason. He quickly begged his pardon with Neville, as he straightened up proudly, he was a Master champion dueller, not some insipid arse as Severus would say, well he wouldn’t say arse, he would insult you more without being obvious about it. 

“Perhaps he is,” said Pomona, but she was quickly distracted, gazing at the stairs in awe, her mouth open unattractively. 

“Pomona, what…” started Filius who had turned to see what she was looking at, only to have similar reactions himself. 

“What the hell are you all doing here? The House-Elves were told to get you to safety.” Harry said, as he moved in front of Luna and Severus. Staring at the students that seemed to take up the entire stairway and impossibly further up. All of them looked set, resolute, each teacher had to admit they’d never seen such determined looks on the students faces before. Somehow Harry wasn’t going to win the upcoming argument, if he even argued - time was of the essence. 

“We aren’t going to run away, we are Gryffindors for a reason,” said Ron, not afraid to stand up to Harry like the others were. After all they had been friends for years, and knew his friend didn’t really have a violent bone in body. Oh that’s not to say he couldn’t be scary, because he could, and that being said they had made him the defacto leader of the Gryffindors. “We will fight with you Harry, the chances of it getting in here is extremely big.” 

“Get through the Floo, this isn’t a game, or an adventure, its life or death and they wont hesitate just because you are at school.” snapped Harry. 

“Do you think we don’t know that Harry? We aren’t completely stupid.” said Ron, as everyone around him fidgeted. “We are the same age, if you get to fight so should we.” electing to ignore that quite a few sixth years were amongst the ranks. 

“In age only, you’re content to scrape by your classes, now get back to the common room and get out of here, all of you, now.” hissed Harry, deliberately goading Ron into getting furious and leaving. As angry at Ron as he was, as much as he didn’t like him now, he had still been his best friend for four years, and a part of Harry would always be fond of him. He had just grown up, grown out of Ron and Ron wasn’t ready for that, maybe one day they might actually be friendly again, but nothing and he meant absolutely nothing could bring back the former friendship. He heard Zar hissing warningly, causing him to clutch at his ‘tattoo’ that nobody could see from the clothes he wore. 

Neville squeaked and moved aside, seemingly for no reason, causing Harry to laugh softly, grinning at his friend. 

Luna pressed a hand to Harry’s arm, her hair still all over the place, her face streaked with dirt from spending time in the dungeons. “Harry you can’t save everyone, you know that, they just want to fight to have Hogwarts go back to the way it was - to stop themselves being tortured or torturing people.” 

“Speak for yourself,” said Blaise Zabini, as he sauntered from around the corner, a smug smirk on his face. “I just don’t want a Mudblood telling me what to do.” his smirk was gone replaced by disgust. Oddly enough, the house of Zabini had declared everyone wearing the Dark Mark was blood traitor, they were after all serving a half-blood, Slytherin or no. 

Severus cleared his throat, glaring at the boy, warning him that he was on thin ice, a look Harry was familiar with and did not pity the teenager. 

“Muggle-born, sorry Headmaster,” said Blaise, very surprised to see him with the school instead of the Death Eaters. Draco Malfoy had received a hastily written letter not two minutes ago, telling him to get out of the school by any means necessarily right now. Of course his classmate wasn’t going anywhere, he was stunned and petrified on the common room rug, along with Parkinson, Nott Crabbe and Goyle. He might be a proud pureblood, but that didn’t mean to say he took enjoyment out of cursing his classmates with the Cruciatus Curse. He was at the end of his tether when this all happened, which helped make his decision for him. He couldn’t live his life being cursed or cursing others, he wasn’t Draco Malfoy and found no joy in tormenting others. 

“Not all of us Slytherins are evil,” said Daphne, leaning casually against the wall, looking for all the world bored. As if there wasn’t a big bloody battle eminent. “Need we remind you it was a Gryffindor that betrayed the Potters?” 

Harry arched an eyebrow, impressed with her guile, nobody mentioned his parents for a reason. Oh he knew about that, all the students learned, and it circled like wild fire. He would have had to be deaf not to hear it, and he was not deaf, far from it. He just couldn’t stand anyone taking bad about them, well people his own age of course, he would have ended up expelled if he harmed a teacher for mentioning his parents. The first person to really feel it badly was his aunt, bad blood, she’d said, in turn he had given her a free balloon ride across the country, it was really too bad she had been Obliviated, she certainly wouldn’t have bothered him again knowing what she did. 

“Where are the others?” enquired Severus, noticing five in particular students from seventh year missing. 

“In the common room,” said Blaise his face blank, nary a sign of guilt. 

Harry looked around at everyone, why the hell were they so determined to help? His heart sank, they like him, had been forced to grow up too soon. No doubt the barrage of Cruciatus Curses would have woken them up to how the world would be if Voldemort truly won. How many had experienced that course? How young? Merlin he didn’t even want to think about it. Taking a deep breath, he realized he couldn’t stand around any more, they would just have to do what they wanted - and be responsible for their own actions. As Luna said he wasn’t responsible for them all, yet part of him still felt as he though was. He’d thought he had gotten this out of his system, but until now his classmates had been safe - well sort of. Stalking over to Ron, aware that someone was following him, he stepped on the stairs and leaned over talking to the boy for the first time in what felt like a decade. 

“Ron you are the strategist, you know the school, set up your pieces.” said Harry, “Just try and keep everyone away from the bridge, its where he is and the Death Eaters.” 

Neville nodded, “They shouldn’t stand a chance.” agreed Neville. 

“Alright,” said Ron his eyes wide in shock, they were trusting him to help? But Harry hated him, why would he want his help. 

“Thank you for telling me about Luna,” added Harry, relieved green eyes staring into familiar brown. 

Ron nodded wordlessly, obviously surprised by what was happening. 

“Be careful, Ron.” said Harry, stepping up another one and bringing him into a rough hug, patting his back for a few seconds before he turned and went back to the unusually quiet teachers, who were gazing at their students in unmistakable pride, happiness and worry. If anything happened he had at least buried the hatchet so to speak. Let go off old hurts, he was happy, and one day Ron would find happiness as well, new friends with more in common with him. 

“You too, Harry.” said Ron, his eyes blinking rapidly, as he tried to suppress his tears. 

“HARRY!” called out Ginny, a path automatically paved way for her, as she walked out of the crowd. 

Harry arched a curious eyebrow, similar to the way Severus would look…and actually did look right now. He was looking between the pair of them curiously. Were they together? If so why hadn’t his son told him? They obviously weren’t, Harry wouldn’t neglect to tell him anything of that magnitude. “Ginny,” he said, his tone perplexed, his expression didn’t ease up any, as she walked towards him and threw herself at him! What the bloody hell?

Grabbing Ginny’s arms which were like bloody tentacles, and pressed them against her own chest when he successful got them off his back and chest. Ron might be the only brother that was here right now, but he really didn’t want to deal with all the Weasley’s when this was over (and he survived of course) which if he was nasty he would end up enduring them. “It’s nice to see you again, Ginny, how are you and Dean?” very aware that was the last person she had decided to date, she wasn’t half getting around his dorm mates. 

“Me and Dean? We aren’t together, I’ve been waiting for you,” said Ginny, standing there hopeful, her breathing speeding up. Aware of every single eye on her, maybe doing this had been a bad idea, better to be rejected in private than public. She’d just always thought they would end up together. 

“Ginny you’ve slept with nearly every seventh year, I’m not stupid, let your silly dream go, you’ll never be mine - I’d rather have someone who really loved me not the image or hero profile.” said Harry, a few people closest to them heard, but the general audience had no idea what his reply was. Although regretfully it was spreading like wild fire, people had no bloody sense of discretion. 

“I think we have more important matters to deal with,” said Severus, irritated and showing it. He personally felt Harry was being too soft on the Weasley girl, he didn’t know how many times he’d given her detention over the past two years for being ‘indecent’ in the corridors with boys older than her. She was certainly not the right person for his son, and he would have protested most profoundly if he had found out they were. 

“You’re right, he’s beginning to move,” said Harry, noticing the dots moving away on the map. Why would he leave? Was he aware that the Order was already here and holding their own? Running to make up for the three minutes they’d lost standing there arguing, he rounded the corridor, and yanked open the door, soundlessly as possible, crouching down to make sure he wasn’t seen. Shuddering, he blindly grabbed onto the person closest to him, for support. “Dementors.” now he was feeling them, a lot of them. 

“Hermione and Ron know how to cast it,” said Luna, as far as she remembered, “Blaise Zabini can as well.” 

“It’s not enough, there’s hundreds going that way,” said Harry watching the cloak of Dementors, that looked like a dark cloud move off towards the front of Hogwarts. Raising his wand he muttered the Patronus message, watching it split into two different Doe’s and bow before whisking off. He’d wanted to tell Ron and Moody, he hadn’t realized the magic could tell his intentions and actually split his Doe up and go. “There, that’s them warned at the very least.” 

“He’s communicating with the Dementor Lord.” said Severus, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. 

“I just hope he’s not getting orders to have me kissed again,” muttered Harry sardonically. 

Severus snorted in amusement, shaking his head, Harry’s smart ass comments were funny but in the wrong way - and out of place too. 

“Oh shit,” said Neville, “They’re coming they’ve seen us!” gripping his wand tighter as they abandoned their stealthy attack. 

“Expecto Patronum!” cried Harry, watching his Doe once again emerge from his wand, but this time it didn’t fly off to give messages but rather to fight the Dementors that were coming towards them. His Doe wasn’t the only one, but it did steal Filius’ Pomona and Minerva’s attention - Dark wizards could not cast the most powerful defensive charm known to Wizardkind. A tabby cat leapt from Minerva’s wand unnoticed as she gazed at Severus, apologetically - he couldn’t be a dark wizard anymore if he could cast such a spell. However, her apology look was rebuffed as Severus resolutely stared ahead, he didn’t want to hear anything from the Gryffindor Head of House. A badger left Filius’ wand, Neville of course still had his carnivorous fly trap plant as it snapped away, and Luna? Why hers was a beautiful Thestral but was there every any doubt such a magnificent creature would emerge from Luna’ wand? Wait that wasn’t Luna’s wand. 

“Where’d your wand?” asked Harry. 

“They took it off me at Malfoy Manor, Harry.” said Luna, “The Room of Requirements gave me this one, I must say its really good - better than my original. But I want it back if its possible…it feels wrong….” 

“Empty?” suggested Harry. 

“Very.” said Luna, nodding her head. 

“I know,” confessed Harry, he’d been forced away from his wand during entire summers, three months without it, Merlin it had been torture. Like Luna described it made you feel empty, as if someone had suddenly cut your hand off yet you still moved to shake someone’s hand with it. Hell he’d almost been kissed by a Dementor because he had been without his wand, alone and completely defenceless flying on his broom. Unable to escape it due to the icy feeling slowing it down, stopping it until he was trapped with no escape. A great big shudder ran through his body. He still didn’t understand how it had been able to find him, shouldn’t they have been sent to Privet Drive? But they had searched everywhere for Sirius did that mean they’d gone to Privet Drive first and then came looking for him here? Shaking off his thoughts, he got them all the time, it was annoying - especially since he never got an answer. 

“Well, well, Harry Potter,” hissed Voldemort, his ruby eyes gleaming maliciously, imagining every kind of torture upon the seventeen year old. A boy who had thwarted him to many times to count, preventing him from getting the Philosopher stone, his diary, which admittedly he didn’t know a thing about, only what he’d successfully dragged out of Lucius’ mind. The boy shouldn’t have survived his rebirth, he was sneaky and could slide out of any situation like a snake. His eyes began to look around, before relaxing, there was no sign of the basilisk, perhaps it had gone into the forbidden forest? He would know if it approached, he was the only rightful Parselmouth here. “And my slippery spy…how disappointing.” 

“Says the insane decrepit Half-Blood who tried to kill him,” sneered Harry, he had nothing against Half-Bloods he was one, but he just wanted to see if anyone would react. None of them did, but it might just be because they had trained themselves not to react to any situation in front of them. “Look at you, you are disgusting and you want to live forever looking like that?!” Harry wouldn’t be surprised if he cracked every mirror in his vicinity - and considering mirrors spoke - well he would want to avoid them if he looked like that. 

\-------0

‘Dementors coming your way, look up’ the Doe said in Harry Potter’s voice before it disappeared in a puff off smoke. Somehow managing to hear the message despite the fact he was currently in the midst of battle. Taking a break temporarily, very temporarily, to catch his breath, he kept an eye on everything with his magical eye as his real eye looked at the hovering cloud which was getting closer - and incidentally making it ten times colder. 

“Those that can cast a patronus do it in when I say,” boomed Moody, before stunning an idiot who bent over to pick up his wand in view of him. If that was a Death Eater, he knew this blood battle was going to be an easy one, he of course didn’t really mean it - he would have loved to have believed it though. There was more of them than there was Death Eaters, at least on this side, he hadn’t been prepared for the battle, which means they were in for a good chance of winning. 

“Hermione!” called Ron, running towards her slamming them both away from the purple spell that had zoomed passed them. 

“RON!” shouted Hermione, hugging him suddenly. He had saved her, it felt like forever since she saw him, she looked over him relieved to see that he looked fine. “How was school?” 

“Torture,” murmured Ron, staying where he was, staring at her, she was beautiful, but deserved someone much smarter than him. Yet he didn’t want to let anyone else have her, despite the fact there was spells shooting back and forth every second, he leant down and kissed her softly. 

Hermione threw him an irritated look, once she comprehended what he had just said, “Ron school is important,” said Hermione shaking her head. She seemed unaware that had even kissed her at all, much to the red heads irritation. 

Ron stared at her, taking a deep breath, he got off her realizing how stupid he had been, if he ended up with her - he would be marrying his own mother essentially. She constantly went on about school, grades, how important it was, everything he didn’t like seemed more important. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have done that.” he said regretfully, she was beautiful, but not for him. 

Hermione stood up too, becoming confused at Ron’s sudden distance and why he was saying he shouldn’t have done it. She was and would remain aware that her constant need to dictate everyone around her had prevented what could have been a good match. A volley of spells distracted them completely as they had to duck and separate to prevent themselves being hit. 

“NOW!” roared Moody, but everyone was already casting the spells, not even waiting for him to finish, they could feel the affect it was having on them. They felt cold, their worst memories were playing over and over again in their mind. If they hadn’t cast Patronus’ when they had, they would have ended up unconscious - although not thanks to the Dementors but with the spells the Death Eaters were casting their way. 

“Finite Incantatem!” muttered Shacklebolt, as he tripped over an Order member. 

Remus groaned, “Ouch, that hurt.” wincing at Shacklebolt’s sudden laugh. 

“Glad to see you’re still alive,” said Shacklebolt. 

“Yeah,” said Remus wryly, “Have you noticed something…” 

“What?” yelled Shacklebolt, flinging spells at only to duck as the spell was returned to him with a well placed shield. 

“There’s no werewolves,” shouted Remus, “Stupefy! Incarcerous! Petrificus Totalus!” 

“What the hell are you? A first year? Stop with the easiest spells known to us and use a proper curse!” snarled Moody, James Potter would have been rolling in his grave if he was seeing this. Unbelievable, first year spells, he hadn’t been more shocked since finding out Harry had broken the training dummies when he was fifteen. He was an adult, a fully grown wizard, who should be capable of better than that, if not he shouldn’t be in battle. Added to the fact his wife was currently pregnant, with his child, you would think he would fight with everything he had. 

The Death Eaters had gotten into the school, passed the wards but the students were holding their own, but more Death Eaters continued to come. There was more than he was comfortable now, so with that thought, he savagely joined back in the fray, ignoring his own fatigue, he could rest when he was dead - or when it was over. 

\-------0

Remus Lupin 

“Bombarda!” was hissed with desperation, as the unknown Death Eater, who was clutching their leg where Remus’ cutting curse had managed to penetrate his shield. 

The spell was reflected with swift quick shield, as if Remus was merely swatting away a fly. Before he could get a spell of his own off, the Death Eater had recovered and was firing off his own spell. 

“Avada Kedavra!” the Death Eater said, as he fell to the floor, his body sweating, pale and unable to hold his own weight as he lost too much blood. 

Remus immediately looked behind him before he ducked the spell, watching with wide amber eyes as he saw the green ball with just inches between them touching. He didn’t dare breathe until it had disappeared a good distance, he had to sidestep a cutting curse. An imagine of his unborn child flashed before his eyes, and a picture of what he would look like when he was born…would the child have his eyes or Tonks? Then again he didn’t know what Tonks really looked like, she still refused to this day. He thought maybe she looked a lot like Bellatrix Lestrange or Narcissa even. But Andromeda looked like Bellatrix anyway, so she wouldn’t look like Bellatrix but her own mother. 

“Avada Kedavra! Bombarda! Reducto!” snapped Remus, the killing curse went in the middle, the Bombarda to the left and Reducto to the right. There was no way he could avoid the spells, even with a shield, he was done, especially supporting the injury, it was just a matter of which he chose. His eyes watched the wizard panic, but it was very briefly, before all three spells hit him, but he felt no pain, as the killing curse did its job very effectively. Unlike those poor Muggles or Wizards - he was getting a mercy killing. Breathing heavily, he looked around the battlefield ready to help someone else when something shiny caught his attention. It was just a single glance, but it was enough, once he comprehended what he’d seen, the rat was already on the move, and Remus ran, knocking people aside, just trying to keep up with it, aiming his wand and firing off the spell to no success, but Pettigrew was panicking, by the look of things. 

“Damn you,” snarled Remus, and he continued to fling the spell and run, a stitch growing in his side, one he refused to give in to. Then abruptly Peter transformed back, he skidded to a halt and stared, unable to comprehend why he would have done it. He had been ahead of him, with people around it was difficult to hit a moving target. The rat began trembling, Remus’ amber eyes snapped up, to where Pettigrew was looking. He saw Sirius, his stance screamed ‘I’m going to lay waste to you’ his blue eyes filled with fire. 

He didn’t say anything, because he knew deep in his heart that if they let Pettigrew survive…Sirius would remain on the run if they both survived this. “Together.” said Remus grimly. 

Sirius stared at his best friend, “Together.” he agreed before his face twisted into an ugly look at he started at Pettigrew. 

Peter looked around frantically, but nobody was there to save him, where was his master? He had to get to him, warn him, but if he died, his Master would need him to bring him back. His decision made, he ran for the gates of Hogwarts, transforming into his Animagus form. He got half way before he was hit with two killing curses. An action that should have happened three years ago, if not for Harry’s bleeding heart - things would have been so different. 

“AVADA KEDAVRA!” yelled Remus and Sirius together, aimed squarely for Pettigrew’s back. They nodded in grim satisfaction when the curse hit, and oddly enough it left Pettigrew half man half rat, it would be enough to identify him, along with the wand next to him. 

Looking at each other they smiled tiredly, both thinking the exact same thing. James and Lily had finally been avenged, it only took sixteen years. Harry had been right though, James wouldn’t have wanted them to become murderers for him, but the same went for the others. Its just what friends did, they helped each other got revenge for each other - died for each other. 

Then just like that they separated, going back into the battle ready to do their worst to the Dark Wizards who thought they could just take over the magical world. 

\------0

Bellatrix screeched, before “Crucio!” she said, aiming her wand at Harry, causing the group which had been close together, to scatter to avoid the painful spell. How dare he call her Master a insane decrepit Half-Blood! He was the heir of Slytherin! He was a visionary! It was about time someone like her Master fought for their rights! She was just about to shout out another spell, when her Master spoke, causing her to pout. 

“Potter is mine!” hissed Voldemort in warning. “Mine to kill.” 

Bellatrix reluctantly listened to her Master, catching the blonde haired girl and grinning maliciously. “Will I put you beside itty bitty Longbottoms parents? Crucio!” cackling in amusement. The spell hit its target, and Luna went down screaming in agony. 

“Not my girlfriend you bitch!” boomed Neville, with swiftness that nobody would have thought him capable of he swiftly spent a spell that would break every bone in her leg. She had been so focused on Luna that she didn’t know what was happening until the spell hit her, stopping her in mid cackle. At the very same moment, the painful curse stopped, Luna was no longer suffering.


	70. Chapter 70

A New Place To Stay   
Chapter 70   
The Battle Ends  
Bellatrix screamed in agony as she was crippled by the spell, disbelief thrummed through her, she hadn’t thought the weasel of a boy would have had the guts to curse her. A spell from her right was aimed at Neville, as her husband came to her aid. Scowling at the thought, she didn’t need his help, she never had. She would remain ever faithful to her lord; a thump next to her brought her out of her dark thoughts, to find Rodolphus facing her blankly, his entire body stiff. He was utterly useless, suddenly realizing what on earth was happening, that someone had actually been able to get one over her husband, it must be extremely bad, she scrambled to get up. Pausing briefly when her Lord spoke, more out of habit than actually listening to what he had to say.   
Suspicion flashed over Voldemort’s eyes but he discarded the information, there was no way the boy knew, he had more than adequately protected his Horcruxes. He must have been taking figuratively when he spoke about his looks and living forever. He absolutely refused to contemplate the alternative. He knew how bloody lucky Potter was and with Severus’ intuitiveness there would be every chance of them finding them. “Is Severus going to be the next person to die for you Potter? Like your Mother and James Potter, Cedric Diggory… and Dumbledore.” 

“My parents did what any parent would, and Cedric didn’t die for me, he died because of you, nice try though,” said Harry, not even blinking. Mother and James Potter? His eyes went side ways to Severus and wanted to laugh. Voldemort thought Severus was his biological father, the upturn of Severus' lips told him that he wasn’t alone in his amusement at Voldemort’s presumptions. His eyes also met Luna’s who was still recovering from the spell Bellatrix put on her. Neville was staring at Bellatrix, breathing heavily, an ugly look of hatred and disgust clear as day on his face. 

“Yes,” hissed Voldemort, “And the wizard you so gleefully stand side by side with, your father ended your precious Dumbledore. I have seen the memory Potter.” he was still coming to terms he'd been so betrayed by his spy, in such a heinous fashion. His words that caused a wild moment for the wizards on the light side, as they looked over in shock but quickly discarded the information. Harry looked exactly like James, Voldemort was obviously saying it to confuse everyone and rile them up. Only Minerva truly understood, which made her eyes dim further. 

“Father?” choked Lucius, “You mean you slept with that Mudblood-” if he had planned on saying anything else, he didn’t get the chance.   
“Sectumsempra!” snarled Severus. Reacting swiftly to the insult heaped upon Lily’s character. There were a few things he couldn’t tolerate, anyone calling him a coward or someone insulting Lily.   
Harry watched Severus' eyes light up with fury, he had thought he'd seen his dad angry as could be. Yet this was nothing on he'd ever seen, and the way he had cursed! He had known he was holding back on him. He was impressive, just as impressive as Neville for not backing down against Bellatrix.   
Lucius raised a shield just in time, but the blast of the powerful spell, sent him hurtling five feet from where he had stood moments ago. Crying out in agony as a jagged edge of stone wedged itself onto his ribs, the crack was unmistakable. With that, everyone else around Harry and Voldemort began to fight, Bellatrix and Neville, Lucius and Severus, Amycus and Filius, Alecto and Minerva, Pomona took on Rabastan Lestrange and Rodolphus was currently petrified on the floor. Selwyn was nowhere to be seen, he’d either ran while everyone’s attention had been elsewhere, or he was lurking around somewhere. Scrambling to get up, he raised his wand ready for Snape, unable to believe he had betrayed them. He was his son’s godfather! He was supposed to protect Draco against everything not kill his beloved father, kill him. Blood was trickling down his side, he must have cut his skin open as well as his ribs, and Merlin it was rather painful.   
“You betray us for a Mudblood?” Lucius said his voice filled with betrayal.   
“Same could be said for you, you know his birth name yet you said nothing, his father was a Muggle,” stated Severus smoothly, before fire flashed on out of his wand, and Lucius returned it with water, clashing together sizzling out creating steam between them. It was obvious that Lucius didn’t want to fight him; he was hesitating, as he was waiting on someone telling him this was a big joke.   
Lucius looked from Severus to the fighting group, he just wanted to get his wife and son and get out of here. He didn’t want to do this anymore, he was far too old. Looking again, he began to back away, keeping everyone in sight - thankfully Potter and his Lord were glaring at each other too much for his Lord to pay attention to his leaving. His white hair, all over the place, dirty and horrible, it swung around as he finally hit the tree line and ran - where he planned on going was anyone’s guess.   
Severus cast a curse at his back, enjoying the squealing sound he’d heard in the distance as the fire caught Lucius’ backside. Sneered in disgust, Lucius was all bark and no bite, to him, but to others he was extremely dangerous - for those that couldn’t hold their own. Lucius would spend his entire life on the run or in Azkaban if they won, and still on the run or killed if the Dark Lord won. The Dark Lord would take his cowardice as a betrayal and kill him if they came across him again.  
Severus black eyes jumped to Neville who was beginning to panic. It was little wonder, since he wasn’t just fighting of Bellatrix but Rodolphus too. He had to admit he was rather proud of the teenager, had he just used a Muggle move? Harry, he must have been teaching him there was no doubt about it. Purebloods like them were lost; they wouldn’t know Muggle fighting, at all, ever. Wincing in sympathy, evil or not, no man should be kicked there, thought Severus was he made his way around, ducking the oncoming spells as he made his way towards Neville, who was picking up his wand and hastily shielding from Bellatrix curse, thankfully he had the sense to duck the Sectumsempra she sent towards him and he was flinging one back when he stole Rodolphus’ attention, allowing him to get back to his own duel.   
Breathing raggedly and heavily, he nodded his thanks to Headmaster Snape, glancing to the side, to find nobody down. Someone must have ran, who was it that Snape had been fighting? Oh yes, Malfoy, he couldn’t believe he’d ran away, but from what he’d gathered at Hogwarts this year, everyone was terrified of Snape. They flinched when he entered rooms, his reputation was complete, Harry’s dad or not, even he would always remain wary of him, not because he thought he was evil or a Death Eater - he was just plain scary!!   
“Does itty bitty Longbottom want to stop playing now?” cackled Bellatrix, firing off yet another spell before Neville could think. She wasn’t the Dark Lord’s best for no reason.   
Neville threw her a look that clearly said ‘are you crazy?’ this was her playing? Well maybe he should have run while he had the chance. Left the battle to more experienced wizards, who would be able to keep up with her, he could only fire off one spell to three of hers; she was just too bloody fast. Even Luna was keeping up with the other Lestrange, but she’d always been more lithe, dangerous and faster than him. If he hadn’t ran with Harry for two years around the pitch and lost weight…he knew he would have already been out for the count. He rubbed his arm against his forehead, gathering the droplets of sweat that were brewing on his forehead. Tightening his grip on his wand, he went through every scenario he and Harry had done when in the Room of Requirements. Break the arms and legs, fight back and run towards your wand if you are disarmed, feign disorder and crush opponent. He’d already crushed every bone in her leg and she was still up and about, so much for that theory. 

“Crucio!” Bellatrix cast in a shrill voice. 

Neville ducked away, barrelling accidentally into Rabastan before righting himself, trusting Luna to have his back. Keeping his full attention on Bellatrix, who was still laughing at him. 

“Enough yet baby Longbottom? Crucio! Sectumsempra!” giggled Bellatrix. 

“Crucio!” yelled Neville, blowing her off her feet but not actually causing her pain. 

“You have to mean to cause pain boy, to want it more than anything.” said Bellatrix picking herself back up, a little delicately on one leg but she didn’t let it slow her own too much. “Shall I give you an example?” 

Neville listened to her, his anger building and building at her condescending tone, fury at what she’d done to his parents…tried to do to his girlfriend….who he had managed to successfully protect until the Carrows got her - she hadn’t suffered the agony of the Cruciatus Curse and Neville never even wanted her to even experience it for a second. He had lost too much in his life; he refused to allow himself to be killed by this bitch. “AVADA KEDAVRA!” Neville roared out his frustrations. 

Bellatrix’s amusement was cut short, as a shocking display of disbelief sprayed across her green face as she fell life less to the ground. Neville stared down at her face, he was quite frankly stunned as well, he hadn’t expected it to work, like she’d said - he’d never had the anger to cast those spells. Yet all the years of being told he was no good, the fact she took away his parents, his chance of a normal childhood, she was the reason he his parents were there but gone. He just couldn’t stand the thought of her hurting someone else the way he’d been hurt. It seemed he wouldn’t have to worry about that, but he did have to worry about the large gash on his upper arm and shoulder. It was bleeding freely, muttering the spell under his breath, keeping his arm still, he groaned in agony as bandages wrapped securely around it. Now he couldn’t move it much even if he wanted to, and during a battle - it wasn’t a comforting thought.   
\--------0   
Severus Snape   
“Langlock!” Severus uttered using his own spells; normally it did provide an advantage. 

“Crucio!” predicable really, Death Eaters always used those spells. 

“Sectumsempra!”

“Avada Kedavra!” 

“Bombarda,” 

“Imperio!” 

“Alarte Ascendare!” snapped Severus, aiming the spell at his feet, with precision that even when Rodolphus jumped to avoid it - he didn’t quite succeed and the spell had him flying upwards through the air, until it lost momentum and gravity won out and the Death Eater was falling rapidly through the air, and landed with a definitive thud. Blood oozed slowly out of his mouth, his eyes half open, glazed, two Lestranges down. 

“DUCK!” yelled Neville, flinging up a shield, as a wizard he didn’t know came out of the trees. Gasping in pain as he was hit with a bone breaking hex he had no chance of stopping by Lestrange, since he’d put up a shield charm to protect Harry’s dad from the unknown wizard. Obviously a Death Eater, but other than that - he didn’t know. 

It looked like Selwyn had finally joined the battle, thought Severus, as he eyed the worried wizard, who looked deeply confused…he evidently didn’t know about Severus so called change of heart yet. 

\----------0 

Sirius & Remus 

Breathing heavily, blinking rapidly as a sudden rush of people made its way into Hogwarts, not just people, students or Death Eaters, no they were Auror’s. Wide eyed, holding onto his side, wishing for nothing more than a pepper up right now, as he wildly looked around terrified to the core. His Amber eyes looking for familiar almost shaggy black hair and skinny body, there, he must have just finished his opponent judging by the triumphant grin on his face. He was glad the wands he’d brought in had worked for his friend, Sirius’ other wand of course was lying in the ministry either that or snapped - he wasn’t sure which one. Usually the wands were only snapped if they were expelled from school, but he wasn’t sure if it was applicable now, especially with the other magical schools that can accept them despite being expelled from a previous school. Running towards him, looking back occasionally, grateful that nobody seemed to even look in his direction - which incidentally meant nobody was looking in Sirius’ direction. Giving one last look as he grabbed Sirius, his amber eyes overly bright. 

“Sirius, transform! NOW!” yelled Remus, dragging Sirius off nearer the forbidden forest. “Stay in there until its safe.” 

“I’m not leaving,” said Sirius, shoving Remus aside, trying to get back to the fighting, which admittedly wasn’t needed now the Auror’s had made an appearance. They were moving swiftly in formation, bringing the Death Eaters down, nobody had noticed Pettigrew yet though. He would need to personally deliver the dead wizard to the Ministry, so he could make sure Sirius was pardoned as soon as possible. 

“You idiot! The Aurors are here.” snapped Remus, managing to grab onto his hoodless cloak, almost choking him, but succeeding in getting him out of sight. He couldn’t risk the Aurors seeing him and killing him without thinking. He was the most wanted wizard right now, they were to use any force necessary and in the heat of battle, they weren’t fighting to arrest, they were fighting to wound, cripple or kill. Sirius’ reputation would ensure they would hit with the intention to kill him. “They won’t hesitate to kill you, Sirius, please.” forcing him down onto his knees before Remus joined him. 

“I can’t just leave, Harry’s somewhere around here,” protested Sirius. “I’m not leaving him to do it alone.” 

“You’re no good to Harry dead!” argued Remus, peering out beside the trees looking around, making sure there was nobody sneaking up on them. Thankfully the battle seemed to be tapering off, his amber eyes felt nothing but pity for the students and other bodies littered Hogwarts ground. “It’s all clear on this side and I can’t see Harry or Voldemort. Who’s missing?” 

“You mean other than the Lestranges? Malfoy, the Carrows maybe I think that’s it.” said Sirius breathing heavily. “I wish we had that map, we would know exactly where Harry is.” 

"Harry had it in his third year, It will probably be in Grimmauld Place." said Remus, “Remove your cloak.” 

“What…why?” asked Sirius confused, but dumbly doing as Remus asked. 

Remus was removing his; thankfully they were similar builds that the cloaks would fit one another. Flinging his own at the wizard, he hastily put Sirius’ on his back, adding a heating charm since Sirius’ didn’t have sleeves in his cloak or a hood for that matter. Helping Sirius get the borrowed cloak on, he slid the food down his face and buttoned it up. Backing up slightly, he nodded it was as good as it was going to get, and since Sirius wasn’t going to leave he had to just do the best he could. “There, just stick by me,” grumbled Remus, “You really should have just went home, this is very risky Sirius - its not just you but me as well - I’ll either be killed or arrested for being an accomplice!” 

“Sorry, Remy, but I can’t leave Harry.” said Sirius, sounding contrite. He was partly jealous at Remus; he was going to be a dad! And he thought they would always be bachelors together. Yet Tonks and Remus were married and having a child of his own, which was why Remus was barely around during the summer holidays, while Harry was safe in Grimmauld Place. Between Remus hardly being around and Harry trying to turn him grey - he had felt extremely down, still did really. It was obvious Harry didn’t need him, he was an adult now, and Remus had his own family what was left for him? 

“I know,” sighed Remus, “Let’s go, just…keep your head down.” 

“Yes, yes, lets go.” said Sirius impatiently before they began walking towards Hogwarts, at a brisk pace determined to find Harry. Both of them praying that he was alive and alright. 

“Ron!” shouted Remus, catching sight of the familiar red haired boy. 

“Professor Lupin,” said Ron, glancing at Sirius but said nothing, knowing there was like a million Aurors all over the place. 

“Do you know where Harry is?” asked Remus, his amber eyes filled with worry. 

“Last I seen he and the teachers were making their way to the bridge.” replied Ron honestly, “I’ll go with you.” 

“Where’s Hermione?” asked Sirius, surprised to see him without her. 

“I’m not sure,” said Ron looking around, his brow furrowed as he felt his heart sinking - he hoped she was alright despite the fact he had realized he didn’t want to be with her. He had been thinking of the girl who went on adventures with them, who broke the rules, and he had realized she wouldn’t be like that. It would have been like marrying his mother, and he didn’t want that. 

“Where are you going?” asked Remus surprised when Sirius began walking again, Remus and Ron quickly both caught up with him. Passing the crying students, who had someone they care about hurt or dead on the grounds of Hogwarts. Then there was the Head Boy and surprisingly the prefects helping the students, young and old get into the school where it was warm and comfortable and where they could be healed. The Aurors were currently taking the alive but injured wizards to either the Ministry to be healed or St. Mungo’s until they were healed then to the Ministry holding cells. The dead was being pilled up to one side, at least the Death Eaters were, those who had died on the light side were being levitated up and taken into the school respectively. They did after all deserve a hero’s burial, after dying for the light side. 

Just as they entered the school, they noticed the lime robed healers entering through the gates of Hogwarts. 

\--------0

Lord Voldemort & Harry Potter   
“Crucio!” hissed Voldemort. 

Harry ducked to avoid it, hearing screaming but he didn’t dare to turn around. “Really is that the only spell you know?” sneered Harry, looking remarkably like Severus at that moment, giving credence to Voldemort’s thoughts. 

Voldemort slashed his wand, causing a purple beam to fly at Harry, who erected a shield immediately. The spell splintered through, Harry ducked to avoid it but the spell caught his shoulder causing him to yell out in agony. Despite his obvious pain, he remained standing, his face filled with torment. 

“Aqua Eructo!” Harry said through gritted teeth, a large get of water poured out of his wand, hitting Voldemort in the face and sending him off his feet by the time the spell ended - he was back on his feet. Sending yet another spell at Harry, who raised a shield causing it to rebound on him. 

“SAGITTO!” shouted Harry, causing arrows to fly from his wand, two successfully managed to hurt Voldemort the rest bounced harmlessly off the ground. 

“Avada Kedavra!” 

“Avis!” birds flew from Harry’s wand taking the oncoming killing curse, causing the birds to fall down and disappear before they touched the ground. Harry looked around, tiring he could see everyone else was as well, in fact the Death Eaters were getting the upper hand; despite the fact two of the Lestranges were dead. They were losing, and if he didn’t do something soon - things were going to get out of hand. Biting his lip, he made a decision he hoped he wouldn’t regret - he summoned Zar from him causing the Death Eaters to lose focus and scream in complete terror, shielding their eyes. 

Harry sniggered softly, as Zar just treated them like bowling balls flinging his tail out causing them to fall. Then he got a calculating look on his face, as Voldemort looked away and cast the killing curse on his familiar - it didn’t do anything thankfully. “Kill the Dark Lord, lower your shield when I say.” hissed Harry. 

“Don’t, I’ll free you, you will get to be free and roam as you should.” hissed Voldemort, “Join me.” 

Harry laughed, “Carpe Retractum!” causing rope to spring out from his wand, and tie itself around Voldemort and yank him forward. Pointing his wand under his neck he began speaking in a cold detached tone, not paying the slightest bit of attention to those around him. He knew if anything happened - Zar would be on them in the blink of an eye. 

“The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. This is what you heard, and in doing so, set in motion your own downfall.” said Harry coolly, Voldemort was watching the teenager wide eyed, completely frozen, not only had was the rope securing him, but the yank forward had caused him to lose the grip on the wand. “He will mark him his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not, and either must die at the hand of the other…for neither can live while the other survives.” 

Voldemort just stared uncomprehendingly. 

Harry stepped back, “Go on Zar, get your own revenge.” stated Harry, yanking at the spell again, and Zar lowered his shield, as soon as both set of snake eyes met, shock and fear was the last emotion Voldemort felt - as he stared into the eyes of a basilisk, much like his first kill, Myrtle was sort of avenged as the Dark Lord perished, his body fell with a final thud. 

“Bloody hell Harry!” was the first thing uttered once the Dark Lord was defeated. 

Harry whirled around Ron was whiter than sheet his eyes tightly closed, grabbing Sirius and Remus obviously having told them to do it too. 

“Alright Zar, do you want to go to Prince Manor?” hissed Harry, only Severus could understand them both. 

“No,” hissed Zar, “I’m not leaving your side, silly human.” 

Ron whimpered shaking in his boots, never daring to open his eyes. 

“I thought Severus was your silly human?” grinned Harry, watching Severus glare at him but it was only half heartedly, 

“You’re both my silly humans,” said Zar, giving Harry a gentle nudge, which of course meant Harry was nearly bowled over on his arse. He managed to stay standing by grabbing a hold of the great big king of snakes, causing him to hiss as his scales were yanked a bit too harshly. 

Ron gulped nosily, what was happening? The urge to open his eyes was strong but he didn’t want to die. 

“You can open your eyes, Basilisk glares aren’t always lethal, only when he raises the shield on his eyes.” said Harry in explanation. 

“Wait so the Basilisk in our second year didn’t want to kill anyone?” asked Ron surprised, his eyes popping open, gazing warily at the large serpent. 

“He wont hurt you, I’ve had him since he was an egg, he’s only two years old, still a baby by animal standards,” said Harry, ignoring the look of disbelief on Ron’s face. “You all owe him, he did just destroy Voldemort for us.” he ran his hand down the snake. 

Sirius stayed where he was looking at Harry as if he’d never seen him before. 

“Um…you might want to…you know…make him disappear…there’s Auror’s coming.” said Ron, actually referring to Sirius AND Zar. 

“Time to go Zar,” hissed Harry, and before long, Harry was rubbing the tattoo that made a sudden reappearance on his arm. 

“I knew you had a snake familiar, but I had no idea it was a snake.” said Neville, shaking his head. 

“You did it Neville!” said Harry thumping him on the back, “How does it feel?” 

“Actually really satisfying,” muttered Neville sheepishly. 

“Who have we lost?” asked Harry, his tone grim, he wasn’t deluded enough to think they hadn’t lost anyone. 

“Well Colin Creevy stood in front of a curse meant for his brother and saved him,” said Ron sadly. “Dean was taken down but I’m not sure if he died or not. There were so many people it’s difficult to keep track.” 

“They’re being sent to the hospital wing, you’ll know more there.” said Remus. 

“Are you ready to go, dad?” asked Harry, his green eyes glimmering brightly, feeling renewed with that single word - a pepper-up potion wouldn’t have even had this much of an affect on him. His dad would know what he was talking about; it was time to wake Albus Dumbledore back up - as much as it annoyed them at having to do it - he didn’t want to risk his dad’s life for anything - never mind Dumbledore. 

“DAD?!” echoed two horrified voices, while another just echoed the word ‘dad’ confused. “What the hell, Harry?” hissed Sirius, walking towards his godson, yanking him away from Snape. He must have done something to Harry to make him think something like that. There was no other explanation. 

“Let me go, Sirius.” snapped Harry, speaking to him the same way he had in the fireplace a few hours ago. 

“He killed Dumbledore!” hissed Sirius, still trying and failing to yank at him. 

“DUMBLEDORE ISN’T DEAD!” roared Harry, succeeding in yanking his arm back, only to massage his neck, he was beginning to feel extremely bad. What had that spell done to him? It was making his insides hurt like a bitch? He would worry about it later, there was other people needing more urgent attention. 

“What do you mean he isn’t dead?” asked Minerva, her voice filled with so much hope it hurt them to hear it - she had obviously been suffering a great deal. 

Harry bit the inside of his lip as he forced his body to continue walking, he ignored Minerva’s words, and the others trailing after him. 

“What did he mean dad?” whined Sirius, his heart breaking, as he spoke to Remus - who he had also lost in a weird way. That title was supposed to be for James or even him! Not now nor ever should it have been Snivellus. 

“Not now, Sirius.” warned Remus, knowing it was only a matter of time before he exploded and revealed himself to the Auror’s. Gripping him tightly by the arm, as if he was trying to delay the inevitable. He had no idea where Harry was going, but as they walked closer and closer, it became obvious where he was going - Dumbledore’s tomb but why? They’d all seen him die; there was no way he had survived.


	71. Chapter 71

A New Place To Stay 

Chapter 71 

Shocks 

“Mr. Potter what do you mean by he isn’t dead?” asked Minerva, her entire body quivering in either shock, cold or maybe a mixture of both. It shouldn’t be a surprise really, her entire life had changed so much in four months, everybody’s had, children being tortured and she hadn’t been able to do a damn thing. She had known if she had tried anything it would have been her death, she’d tried to help when she could, never assign detention. The students had wandered around like ghosts, so different from their usual selves it had made her wish for her unruly students back. It’s what she imagined death camps to be like, she almost wanted to bow over in relief that it was over. Yet she was in a state of shocked disbelief that it was indeed over, not only that but she had her student telling her that Albus was still alive? 

“He means that Dumbledore did not die, despite what everyone thinks.” sneered Severus, still furious with her and her assumptions. He was quite frankly tired of it, of the suspicion, the hatred; he just wanted to brew his potions in peace. He took solace from the fact that he would be doing just that very soon. His part was over, there was no coming back for Voldemort, and the mark had at long last faded from him completely. No more marks to show the naivety of his youth or servitude. He could scarcely believe he’d survived, he truly hadn’t expected it. He wouldn’t have if Harry hadn’t shown up, which he was still curious about in all honesty. 

“Severus Snape you’re under arrest…” started Tonks, stalking up to them, her face set in stone. She couldn’t believe Remus, Sirius, Minerva and the other head of houses were even standing near him. He had killed Albus Dumbledore! The war had gotten so bad because of him! Many had died and she would see him in Azkaban for his crimes. 

“Oh shut up,” snapped Harry, “That record is well and truly been played to death. Dumbledore isn’t dead, and if I have to say it again I’m going to scream.” scowling at Tonks, who stared at him in surprise and shock. He didn’t know why she was so shocked; he’d been like this with them for the past three months. Although Tonks hadn’t been there often, or Remus for that matter, they’d mostly stayed out of it - off doing their own thing as a newly married couple. 

“Harry,” frowned Remus, he didn’t like how Harry was speaking to his wife at all. “I told you not to come.” he said turning his attention to Nymphadora very displeased. She was pregnant! She shouldn’t be going into battle, one wrong hex and her and the baby could be hurt or killed. He couldn’t lose them, not when he had just accepted the fact he was going to be a dad, gotten over the fact his child might have lycanthrope. He would just have to wait and see if he was inflicted or not, since it was obvious Nymphadora was too stubborn to listen to his earlier wishes. 

“Wingardium Leviosa!” chanted Severus, levitating the great big slab of marble encasing Albus Dumbledore’s final resting place. Only it wasn’t so final was it? Thought Severus sardonically, part of him would have liked it to be, a greater part wanted to make sure everyone knew what Dumbledore had done to his precious saviour and be alive to get the full fledged consequences of it. Perhaps then nobody would think so highly of the old fool. Hissing under his breath, the anger getting the better of him, as he removed his potions pouch, and plucked a specific potion he’d been keeping for this very reason. 

Harry looked around at the devastation, students crying over injured or dead classmates, hurt themselves. He saw Poppy coming out the school along with healers tending to the wounded students; the most severe they could see first, giving them basic healing then levitating them to what he assumed was the hospital wing or maybe the Great Hall, since it was closer. Many where taking injured classmates into the castle themselves. He could see the pale bodies of several Aurors as well, but whether they’d survived or not, he didn’t know. 

“Is that…the antidote to the Draught of the living death?” gaped Sirius, recognizing the potion. Which surprised everyone there, but it shouldn’t have. As everyone knew, you needed to know all potions and herbs as part of becoming an Auror. It was one of the most important tests, fail that then you were out, even if you did every other test there was. He was closer than the others, hence they didn’t guess first. Once he’d said it, the others all glanced at it and nodded their confirmation. It was indeed the antidote to the draught of the living death. 

Minerva felt faint, and it was thanks to Ron she didn’t fall to the floor in shock. He managed to hold on to her, as she gaped at Severus, Dumbledore’s body and Sirius. Draught of the Living Death? Dumbledore WAS alive, and had been all this time? Had he agreed to it? She couldn’t believe Dumbledore would allow that to happen, and not tell anyone? She’d been mourning him as dead for months and he’d been alive all this time. She didn’t know what to do, hug him or curse him until his backside was consumed in flames. 

“How long does it take to work?” asked Ron, understanding what was going on. Keeping a tight grip of his Transfiguration teacher, he who he was taller than already. A lot more bulky than her, so it was practically nothing to keep her weight but he was concerned about her. She’d lost a lot of weight since the last time he saw her and she was looking awfully pale and tired. All the teachers were though, at least the ones who’d been at Hogwarts before it was taken over. The Carrows were a whole other kettle of fish, ones he really didn’t want to think about right now. The war was finally over, his family were safe, Harry had survived, and he had survived against all odds. 

“It will start working straight away,” to the surprise of them all - other than Severus of course, it was Harry who answered that question. He stared them down, sick and tired of them all thinking he was an idiot, admittedly it was his own fault, and he had gone four years turning in less than stellar assignments. He’d just been so used to doing second best, as a child he dumbed down so he didn’t do as well as Dudley. As a Hogwarts student, he’d continued it, going along with Ron, but somewhere between the end of his fourth year and beginning of fifth he’d found himself. Maybe it was fighting Voldemort and only knowing one spell that kicked him in the backside, maybe it was his dad who demanded perfection…could even be a little of both. 

Ron stared at Harry impressed; he was almost like Hermione now - super smart, but without the attitude to go with it. Hermione! He had forgotten about her, well almost. Looking around, as much as he could with Professor McGonagall in his arms, he couldn’t see any sight of the bushy haired girl. A concerned frown worked its way onto his face, just because he didn’t want to date her, it didn’t mean he had stopped caring about her. She would always remain his best friend; she was just too much like his mum for him to desire her in any way. Craning his neck, he continued to look for her until he heard a groan, and his attention snapped to Dumbledore and the others again. 

Albus Dumbledore felt his legs and arms twitch for the first time in three months, and he wanted to cry in relief. He’d felt so odd since the killing curse hit him, he hadn’t moved on like he thought he would. He’d begun to suspect this might be all that happened when he passed on, the loneliness, hearing things that didn’t make any sense whatsoever. It had been like a suspended sleep, from which there was no escape. A sudden gush of air caused him to gasp in sudden breaths of air, he felt as though he hadn’t moved in years, what had happened? His eyes popped open, to find himself surrounded by people, surrounded by the Order…who all looked battle worn yet relieved. 

Looking around at his surroundings he was aghast to see himself in a coffin, sitting up abruptly, he tried to stand up only to slump against the marble coffin - not able to take his own weight. There was nothing but destruction around him, his blue eyes observed the devastation that littered Hogwarts grounds. 

“Let me help you Albus,” said Remus, moving forward eagerly, gripping the elder wizard under the arm, as Sirius came forward as well as they both helped get him out the marble coffin. 

 

Albus groaned feeling as though his body was going through the throes from Wizarding Flu he had as a child. Only ten times worse, and he hadn’t thought that possible. He had to bite his tongue as he was hoisted into Remus and Sirius’ arms. What was going on? He thought to himself, his mind hazy, he tried to mouth the words, but he was unable to. It was as if his mind couldn’t comprehend the need to open and express his feelings, it didn’t help that his mouth was drier than the inferi bones. 

“Is he alright?” asked Ron, concerned, he’d never seen the Headmaster look older. He was always so full of life, colourful his eyes twinkling brightly - he just had such a wholesome presence that you forget his age. Never had he been so forcefully reminded of it, than right here and now - not even the night he thought Headmaster Dumbledore died. 

“He’s been in an enchanted sleep for three months, nearing four, do you expect him to do a dance?” sneered Severus, showing just because his true allegiances had been proven to the light, it didn’t mean he was going to change his character. 

Harry snorted in amusement, unable to help himself, ignoring the pain that flared in his chest, dear Merlin would it ever stop? What had been cast on him? Harry was partly too terrified to know the answer in reality. He would go and see Madam Pomfrey when things settled down regardless - if he didn’t his dad would kill him. Harry also ignored the glances he received from the others. Harry turned around hearing a loud buzzing of conversation behind him; everyone was standing there, tears running freely down their faces as they gazed at Dumbledore in reverence. Pointing and conversing with their neighbours and Harry really didn’t need to be able to hear what they were saying - nor did he want to in all honesty. 

Harry was startled when his chin was grasped suddenly, before he was staring into familiar yet concerned black eyes. 

“You’re hurt,” stated Severus, narrowing his eyes on his son. Staring at his face as if he noticed something that nobody else could. Since he couldn’t see any visible injury his mind conjured up a series of other dangerous and lethal spells that could do damage. “Has any spells hit you?” he demanded. He didn’t even wait for Harry to tell him yes or no, he knew Harry and knew he was hurt. 

Harry opened his mouth, to say what he didn’t know - maybe tell him or deny it when Professor Sprout spoke up.

“He was hit with a purple spell,” said the Herbology teacher, she preferred her plants so she had no idea if the spell he was hit with was dangerous or not. 

Severus paled drastically, knowing all too well the damage the spell was wreaking on Harry’s insides. How the hell was Harry still standing was his question? The pendant, it must have shielded Harry from the worst of it, otherwise he would be dead by now. He didn’t have the potions he needed to save Harry, not in his pouch, but thankfully Poppy would have them. “Dobby?” called Severus urgently. 

“Yes Sir?” Dobby said, popping into existence, without his bowing and scraping sensing the urgency his Master displayed. 

“Inform Poppy that Harry has been hit with Dolohov’s curse, I need the potions immediately.” said Severus, she would know what he meant. She had dealt with his victims before; this particular spell didn’t have a name. In fact it was just called Dolohov’s curse, he wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what it became known as. He at least had named his spells, and kept the incantations a secret, well other than the Sectumsempra which Bellatrix had somehow gotten her hands on. Each time she used it against someone, he felt completely responsible, despite the fact he knew she would and could have used a different spell. 

“Is it bad?” asked Ron immediately, his brown eyes wide with fear. 

Severus’ eyes snapped up to Ron’s a sarcastic retort on his lips but it died in the face of the boy’s very real fear. He may be a shit teacher, but he had never made fun of someone’s fear, especially when it was a fear over his son’s life. “He will be fine as long as I get the potions into him on time, the fact he didn’t speak up, is what makes time so precious right now.” he turned to glare at Harry, who twitched uncomfortably, but now seemed to be in too much pain to really concentrate on the conversation taking place in front of him. He held Harry’s arms, as he spoke. 

“Let’s get them to the Hospital wing,” said Remus, as both Sirius and he guided the Headmaster off the battlefield. Sirius looked back, looking between disgusted at how close Severus and Harry were and worried about him. Yet he continued to care more about getting the headmaster help than staying with his godson. 

“Typical,” sneered Severus, his nostrils flaring, as he watched them leave, Black continued to fail as a Godfather, and it made Severus hate him all the more. “Always more concerned about others or his own skin.” his arms became heavy as Harry begun to lose the fight with consciousness. 

“He did his best,” said Minerva quietly, but she wasn’t in the mood to argue with Severus - a man she owed so many apologies to. 

“How long ago was he hit?” demanded Severus as Harry flopped down against his chest, he went to his knees, keeping Harry secure in his arms. 

“Ten maybe twenty minutes ago?” guessed Professor Sprout. 

“Which is it? Ten or twenty?” demanded Severus, angrily. 

“It was the start of their duel,” said Sprout, she would have gotten irate at the tone the current Headmaster was using on him if it wasn’t for the worry reflected in his eyes. He really cared, and she now understood the changes in Harry over the past two years and she quite frankly was proud that someone had taken it on to care for Harry. He’d been allowed too much freedom at Hogwarts, and it led to some really dangerous situations that she wouldn’t have allowed for her Hufflepuffs. 

Severus cursed nastily, causing the teachers to shift uncomfortably. Neville crouched down, knowing better than to ask questions. To be honest he didn’t want to Headmaster Snape’s attention on him, he was still bloody scary. He also knew that the Headmaster wouldn’t let anything happen to Harry. 

“Dobby has potions,” said the House-Elf returning, and practically thrusting the ten required first doses. “Had to go to St. Mungo’s with Madam Pomfrey.” he said, watching closely as his Master gave his Harry Potter the potions, rubbing at his throat to make him swallow them. He waited with anxious breaths, green eyes glimmering with pure unadulterated worry. Dobby had always liked his Harry Potter, would go so far as to say he would die for him - for without him he would have died many years ago. Harry cared about him, a lowly House-Elf and for that Dobby would always adore Harry. 

Severus continued to feed Harry the potions with steady hands, not giving into his panic or fear. It just hindered things when one allowed that to happen. The closest he’d ever gotten to giving into the all consuming worry would be when he’d given Harry a potion that would successfully remove the Horcrux. Harry hadn’t been breathing, and if he hadn’t started when he did - he could have had an unknown amount of brain damage. 

“Um…the basilisk won’t come off Harry will it? If he’s sick?” asked Neville quietly, despite the fact everyone already knew. Everyone had blanched upon seeing it, terrified beyond belief, even when it took out Voldemort. He’d heard the rumours about Myrtle, the basilisk and what Voldemort had done when he first opened the chamber. He thought it was very poetic that he had died that way. It would also keep his soul inside his bloody body, so that he couldn’t survive again…at least in theory. 

Severus arched an impressed eyebrow, staring up to face Neville. “That I do not know, I think it’s best to get Harry to Prince Manor just in case Zar does decide he wants off.” he said cautiously, he mentally awarded Gryffindor fifty points for such an intelligent question. Turning back he gazed at Harry who still hadn’t regained consciousness. 

“Harry named him Zar?” said Luna giggling softly, from where she stood behind Harry, just as silently concerned as Neville. 

“Indeed,” replied Severus sardonically, “Zar is short for Balthazar but he hasn’t used that name once since he hatched.” 

Neville looked around at everyone who had stopped what they were doing, which had been gazing at Dumbledore in wonder - they were now looking at Harry in apprehension. Harry had after all just saved their lives; right now they were most concerned about him - not Dumbledore. 

“Can we come?” asked Luna softly, “I mean with you and Harry.” 

Ron bit down on the urge to ask, Harry no longer wanted to be friends with him and he would have to respect that. Hopefully one day he might gain that trust he’d so stupidly lost, listening to a teacher of all things. It wasn’t just that though, Ron knew he had done lots of things that led to that point when Harry decided enough was enough. Maybe they could be acquaintances for now, who knows what the future held? They were both growing up; there was a chance to let bygones be bygones. 

“You really should remain at the school,” stated Severus, which he had no intentions of doing himself. 

“Severus there won’t be any school…” admonished Minerva grimly, “Not for weeks…” she trailed off again, tears entering her eyes. 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, it was probably best that someone be there, since he planned on visiting Dumbledore and collecting his things at one point. He might have others things he had to do as well, like brew the potions for Harry, since he would be bed bound for over two weeks while his body recovered from the curse. He refused to believe Harry had defeated Voldemort only to die a short while later. “Very well, but you tell your father and grandmother respectively where it is you are and get their written consent for myself to see.” the teacher in him coming out. 

“Yes Sir!” cried the two students relieved that he was actually letting them come. 

Sprout, Flitwick and Minerva all glanced at each other surprised; it was becoming all too apparent how much Severus cared about Harry. Other than the fact he’d allowed Harry to call him dad of course, he was letting two students into his home? He couldn’t tolerate them; in fact he hated children did he not? They were beginning to suspect it wasn’t just Harry they didn’t know a thing about but their colleague that they’d worked along side for over sixteen years. 

“Do grab everything you need for the immediate future,” said Severus, hoisting Harry into his arms and holding him there. Which wasn’t an easy feat anymore, he was much too muscular and it was only his own exercise regiment that prevented him from being toppled over. He heard Lovegood and Longbottom summoning their trunks, and Dobby was still standing there watching them. 

“Do tell Dumbledore I want a word with him as soon as possible,” said Severus, his face a blank irritated mask. “If Black even asks, tell him he can go to hell.” 

“Ollivander is in the Room of Requirements,” added Luna, shrinking her trunk and placing it safely in her pocket. She wasn’t sure how they were getting to Prince Manor, but she didn’t want it lost in the journey. 

“I’ll get him,” said Minerva reassuring the sixth year. 

“Dobby, take us home.” said Severus curtly, and just like that, Severus, Harry who was still in his dads arms, Luna and Neville disappeared leaving no trace they’d even been there other than the eyes of those watching.


	72. Chapter 72

A New Place To Stay 

Chapter 72 

Aftermath 

Poppy groaned as the magical alarm she had set up began to blare in her ears. She pressed her hands against her ears as if hoping to muffle the sound. Eventually her tired mind began to wake up as well, even though it didn’t want to. Memories of yesterday quickly sprung into her mind, causing Poppy’s eyes to open, the first thing that came into focus was the empty vial that had once had sleeping potion in it. Dear Merlin it didn’t feel like she had been sleeping for six hours, it felt like six minutes. Almost wanting to whine unprofessionally she forced herself to sit up and methodically began getting dressed. Today she wasn’t wearing her nurse uniform, only an apron with a large pocket, which usually was filled with the potions she needed. 

Standing up she pinned her watch to her top, after glancing at it to confirm the time quite needlessly too. Instead of going straight out she walked over to the fireplace which was currently unlit at the moment. The House-Elves were busy just like the rest of them. Helping everyone they could, they were a godsend; she hadn’t appreciated them as much as she did this past day. Grasping a handful of Floo Powder, she threw it in the fire and called out ‘Prince Manor’ once it went green she pressed her head inside. 

“Severus?” called Poppy, wondering if he was still up, but considering what she knew about Severus, he would be up. She unlike the others had heavily suspected that Harry and Severus had formed a close bond while he lived at Prince Manor. It was common sense really, plus when the Dementors had attacked Harry, she had seen his genuine concern and Harry had settled when Severus soothed him. Then he came back to Hogwarts very calm, Harry had needed someone in his life. “Hello, Dobby, is Severus awake?” she asked when she noticed the House-Elf popping into the living room. 

“I’ll be getting him, Ma’am.” said Dobby, before he was gone once again. 

“Poppy is everything fine? Do you require potions?” asked Severus entering the sitting room three minutes later. 

“Not as of yet, St. Mungo’s have been very helpful in regards to keeping the potions stock up to standard.” revealed Poppy, noticing that Severus frowned, no doubt wondering why she had called then. “How is Harry?” 

“He’s settled down, the potions are working its undoing all the damage, idiotic boy.” grumbled Severus very unimpressed with the fact Harry had remained quiet. “If I hadn’t noticed when I had, it would have been too late for him.” 

Poppy winced, “He’s always been too proud, very much like you, Severus, only more bull-headed stubborn especially when it comes to injuries.” she said bemused. 

“It’s not stubbornness, Poppy. He’s just used to people not giving a shit when he’s injured.” revealed Severus crudely. 

“He certainly doesn’t let me look after him; he’s out of the Hospital Wing as soon as he can upon waking up.” Poppy told Severus quite sadly. Again this was where Harry was almost a clone of Severus; the Potions Master hated being in her hospital wing too. Yet Severus told her that he wouldn’t trust anyone else to heal him. 

“Is Black still there?” asked Severus, his lips curling in obvious disgust. Nobody had been in touch yet, Poppy was the first person to ask after him, although he was sure there was a few people who would have asked for him. 

“He was when I came for a rest, I couldn’t get him to leave,” she admitted furiously, she didn’t like it when people went against her wishes, especially when so many people were sick and she couldn’t afford the time to get him out, nor could she risk someone being hurt by magically forcing Black to leave. The wards in the Hospital Wing would have done the trick, added to the fact she couldn’t risk revealing him to the Auror’s until Pettigrew’s body was picked up. “I can’t wait to get my hospital wing back.” Severus just smirked at her predicament. 

“Indeed,” murmured Severus. "Is Dumbledore awake?" as soon as he was he would enjoy unleashing hell on the old fool. For years he'd suppressed all his anger at the man, but it was no longer needed to keep quiet. 

"No, I don't think he will wake up for at least a day or two, maybe longer." she confided. 

"I see," said Severus, not surprised by what she said. 

“Do you need any potions?” asked Poppy, remembering the other reason she’d reached out to Severus. 

“No, I’ve been up all night ensuring I have a fresh supply of the potions Harry requires,” said Severus firmly. “Thank you thought, I’m glad you helped Dobby get the first dose, every delay caused even worse damage to his internal organs.” it was how the curse worked, you outwardly appeared healthy as a horse, inside though the curse wreaked untold damage to your heart, lungs, kidney’s, liver all your major organs. 

“Yes, it looks like Hermione Granger was hit with the same spell, along with the cutting curse, she was extremely lucky she survived. Alastor told me he tried to get her to stay behind, but she insisted on going along. She told them she was the same age as Harry - that she could keep up.” said Poppy, children fighting in war, it was wrong on so many levels. 

“She always did have an inflated sense of self importance.” Severus muttered sardonically. 

“If you need anything, just let me know, I’ll be in touch,” said Poppy. 

“Of course,” replied Severus, curtly. “Are any of my Slytherins casualties?” 

“No, Severus, they aren’t, injured yes, but none life threatening, a few have even gone back to their common room.” said Poppy quickly, soothing the wizard, she knew how much he cared about his snakes - whether they chose the ‘wrong’ path or not. 

“Keep me appraised.” stated Severus, knowing how limited Poppy’s time was. 

“I will,” said Poppy, “Look after yourself Severus.” she added before withdrawing from the fire, standing up stretching out, muffing the yawn by placing her hand over her mouth. It was going to be a very long week, she had better get used to the lack of sleep. Thank Merlin for Pepper-Up Potions, but she couldn’t take one yet, she had to pace herself and take it when she needed it most. A sudden voice from the side of the room caused her to spin around, and relax when she realized what they’d said. 

“Thank Merlin you’re awake,” said Healer Wren, her face haggard as she walked into the room. Letting her hair down not even trying to suppress the yawn leaving her lips. “I don’t think I can remain awake for much longer.”   
“I think we should get another healer in, so we aren’t spread so thin,” Poppy suggested, as Wren slid into the bed with a grateful sigh. 

“It’s a good idea, but I don’t think there’s anyone that can help,” said Wren honestly, her brow furrowing as she tried to think of anyone who could help. St. Mungo’s had barely been able to let her help Poppy without sending anyone else, it would need to be someone who wasn’t employed. “Do you know any healers that don’t work?” 

“Potential ones yes, but none that have experience.” confessed Poppy, before adding as she started to exited the antechamber, “Sleep, we can discuss it later.” and she was in the unusually quiet Great Hall. All the tables were missing and make shift beds were created, along with one small cabinet for potions. House-Elves had set up curtains for each patient last night, but they were all open this morning, letting her see them all and make sure they were recovering well. 

Almost immediately she went to left side of the hall, and began to tend to her patients. Running diagnostics, changing dressings and giving them potions they required. They only need potions like pain relievers, sleeping potions, dreamless sleeping potions, and most importantly blood replenishing potions. They’d had to make sure they had a lot of the vials to make sure everyone who needed them got it. It was one of the most important potions to aid healers in helping those who needed it. For those that hadn’t woken up yet they would need nutrient potions, to keep their strength up since they couldn’t eat to get energy. 

Before long she was half way through the hall, and felt her energy flagging, perhaps she should have eaten something. She made a quick note to herself to ask a House-Elf to give her something to quick to eat once she’d made sure all were doing well. She didn’t want to use the Pepper-Up Potion yet; she was determined to hold off for at least two hours maybe three. She did quick work of Albus, since there was nothing wrong with him; his body was just recovering from being ‘shut down’ so to speak for three months. Nodding her head when the results of the diagnostic spell confirmed her thoughts. 

“When will he wake up?” asked Minerva, speaking quietly to Poppy.

“Minerva you should rest,” cautioned Poppy, “You are no good to anyone if you pass out.” she warned the woman. 

“I’m not sure how you rested.” admitted Minerva, sighing tiredly, rubbing at her drooping eyes. 

“I had a little help in that regard,” confessed Poppy. Just a sleeping potion mind, not a dreamless sleeping one, since it would have kept her asleep regardless of any alarm she spelled to wake her up. 

“Truly though…how is he?” asked Minerva, following Poppy. She would soon be speaking to the House-Elves about sending up food for all the students in the common rooms, or their dormitories. Since the Great Hall was otherwise occupied, there weren’t many other options. It would be extremely messy, and they rarely had to send food up to the common rooms and she didn’t like to do it even now. The students needed consistency, normalcy, even if things were as opposite of normal right now than ever. At least the Carrows were no longer tormenting her students.   
Poppy sighed in exasperation, standing up straight and facing Minerva, “He is the same as the other times you’ve asked me, Minerva. He is fine, uninjured and just sleeping; when he wakes he will be perfectly sane the potion was brewed to perfection. Now please, I have over thirty students to tend to, either go get some sleep or sit back down before I escort you from the Great Hall.” she wasn’t usually like that, but Minerva had expended her generosity to its capacity. It wasn’t as if Albus was in any life threatening situation, he was sleeping so of course she was irritated considering all her patients in the hall was more injured than him.   
“You’ve been in touch with Severus?” she whispered surprised, moving with her when she went to tend to yet another student.   
“Of course I have, I wanted to know how Harry was, and if he needed more potions.” said Poppy. Unlike everyone else who didn’t seem to care. It looked like Sirius Black had finally left the hall, where he was no she could only guess at.   
“How is he?” she asked, feeling and looking guilty. She had tried to Floo but the guilt was eating her up inside. She couldn’t face Severus or her failures, and so she came across as an unfeeling witch.   
“Severus told me that he was recovering, slowly, but he was given the first dose in time.” Poppy said firmly.   
Moving away from Albus, she began to tend to Hermione Granger, the poor girl was grievously wounded, but on the mend it would take a while before she recovered fully. “Drink this dear.” Poppy told her, helping her drink a blood replenishing potion, pain reliever and a salve which she put on the wounds before redressing them.   
“Excuse me, Healer Pomfrey?” 

“Yes?” said Poppy, turning around to face the Auror now standing face to face with her. 

“My name is Auror Dearborn, and I’m here to start transporting the dead to the Ministry now,” he said, “We need your help to accomplish it and your signatures protocol as you know.” his partner was over at St. Mungo’s dealing with the people there. Many of them were friends of his, so quite frankly he’d jumped at the chance to be here, until he realized many of them were actually here too. 

“I know the protocol, this isn’t my first.” stated Poppy, “You’ll need to excuse me for a moment while I check on my last five patients and find someone that is adequately trained to take care of them for a while.” 

“I can do that,” said Slughorn appearing out of nowhere causing Poppy to jump. “As you know all Potion Masters are required to take a medic course.” 

Poppy wavered slightly, not sure what to do or if she should trust Slughorn, in her view none other than a proper healer should be near her patients. Caving in, she didn’t want Wren woken up for any reason; since the healer had made sure she remained undisturbed. “Very well, section two over there,” she gestured to a certain part, “Is where the most injured are, keep an eye on them, especially Miss. Granger, she’s still bleeding the curse has been removed its sluggish but she needs blood replenishing potions every two hours.” 

“They have clipboards, I’ll know what to do.” said Slughorn, nodding his head, reassuring her that he would watch over them. 

“Very well,” sighed Poppy, quickly scampering off to make sure the last of her patients were recovering properly. They were asleep; she only wished she was allowed that comfort. They were all resting comfortably, nodding her head she dipped into her apron and found a Pepper-Up Potion and drank it down in one large gulp. 

“Lets go.” she said, approaching Dearborn and moving away from him and out of the Great Hall. Once they had been transported to the Ministry, she would be transferring her patients back to the hospital wing even if it would end up a tight fit. Unfortunately not before Breakfast was served.   
\------0  
“Colin Creevy, Muggle born, one magical brother, seventeen years old, Gryffindor Hogwarts student, cutting curse to the right internal carotid artery, he bled out before help could be administered.” said Poppy, looking at the results of both scans and signing the death certificate with sadness at the waste. There would be a healer at the Ministry doing this as well and signing it also before the young wizard would be prepared for burial. This was just the start of a very long line of the dead - most of them she knew from every day life. 

“Rest in peace,” murmured Dearborn, placing the Portkey on his wrist, which was a wrist band with his identification on it. The wizard who would receive him would and could expand it to retrieve the rest of the paperwork squirreled away inside it. He was no longer affected overly much when children were killed, back in the day he had drank to blot them out, and learned to harden himself against it. He still felt pangs at their loss, but it didn’t reduce him to tears or drinking anymore. Two wars, you just learn to steel yourself against your own emotions and instincts. As soon as the war started he’d sent his family, his wife and two sons to France, both times, they would be coming home soon - yet again. Hopefully this would be the last war in his lifetime; he hated not having them here. 

“Patricia Stimpson, Half Blood, Gryffindor student, graduated Hogwarts last year, killing curse.” stated Pomfrey, signing the medical scans. She handed it over watching Dearborn sign and roll it up placing it in a wristband and placing it on the witch. She too disappeared to the morgue, from what she knew her mother was a witch and lived in the magical world. 

“Eleanor Branstone, Hufflepuff, pureblood, blasting curse.” 

“Megan Jones, Hufflepuff, Pureblood, suffocating hex.” 

“Marietta Edgecombe, Half-blood, Ravenclaw, seventeen, blood loss from various wounds, most severe in the leg and abdomen.” 

“Cormac McLaggen, Gryffindor, pureblood, seventeen severing curse that penetrated and punctured the left lung,” 

“Last student,” breathed Poppy glad this part was over, they were her students and this was extremely difficult. “Michael Corner, Ravenclaw, Half-Blood, seventeen, killing curse.” just like that the wizard was gone, Portkey’d to the Ministry of magic. 

“Peter Pettigrew…” started Poppy Pomfrey. 

“WAIT WHAT?!” cried Dearborn, looking shocked to the core; he grabbed the medical chart from Poppy, looking at it as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. The medical scan couldn’t be wrong; he looked at the older wizard, completely stunned. “Peter Pettigrew…he was killed, given an Order of Merlin for his services! I confirmed it was his finger…” yanking the cover back as if suspecting it was wrong, he saw that he was obvious enough the missing the digit or the lack of one. 

“Peter Pettigrew cut off his own finger, I presume to set up Sirius Black as the culprit of being the Potter’s Secret Keeper - and the murderer of thirteen Muggles. He is a rat Animagus, I spent one hour changing him back, it was not a pretty sight.” said Poppy, he still wasn’t, but that was beside the point. 

“An innocent man,” said Dearborn paler than he’d ever been before, they’d sent an innocent man to Azkaban. “Leave him until last, I’ll take him to the Ministry myself when I leave.” 

“Of course,” said Poppy, it meant he wouldn’t be lost in the influx of bodies going to the morgue - Sirius Black would be pronounced innocent tonight. 

“Madam Pomfrey, Professor Slughorn needs you, Miss Granger has taken a turn for the worst,” said a House-Elf popping in. 

“I must go,” said Poppy immediately. 

“Of course, go.” said Dearborn still shocked. He would have to wait for her to return, he needed a healer to scan and sign off on the bodies before they were transported. 

\------0 

 

Prince Manor - Severus & Harry 

“Easy, don’t get up.” said Severus, preventing Harry from sitting up by placing his hand against his chest. “You’ve been seriously hurt, idiotic boy.” 

“What do you mean?” asked Harry, wincing in pain; it felt ten times worse than when he was at Hogwarts. 

“You were hit with Dolohov’s curse, very nasty spell, if I had not discovered what it was - you would have died in excruciating agony.” Severus told Harry bluntly, removing his hand seeing Harry wasn’t trying to get up. 

“The purple spell?” murmured Harry, remembering it hitting him, “I didn’t think it had affected me, even though it got through my shield until later…when I began to feel really bad.” 

“Here, drink these,” said Severus handing over one vial after another until four potions had been consumed. “Best get used to them, you’ll need to take them for at least a week.” watching Harry relax after he drank the last one, level eight pain reliever. 

“How many?” asked Harry, sighing in relief as the pain vanished, Thank Merlin for potions. 

“Unknown.” stated Severus, knowing what Harry was asking about. “All I do know is that none of the Slytherins have perished. Colin Creevy however, was confirmed to be dead; he stepped in front of a curse for his brother according to Ronald Weasley.” 

“Luna and Neville are alright aren’t they?” Harry asked, his tone sleepy, the potion making him extremely drowsy. 

“They are here, I forced them to get some sleep,” stated Severus, the things he did for his son. 

“Force?” giggled Harry, finding it hilarious. He didn’t need to force anyone to do anything, just staring at them would have them quivering in their boots. 

Severus smirked, he’d never heard Harry sounding so young, but it was solely due to the potion no doubt. He probably felt like he was on cloud nine, he was better off sleeping through it and saving himself embarrassment but Harry probably would only have a vague recollection of the conversation. Shaking his head in amusement, he flung the covers up, and took a seat next to Harry’s bed, deep in thought. He had so much to do and he was cautious on where to start.


	73. Overcoming Adversary

A New Place To Stay 

Chapter 73 

Overcoming Adversary 

Poppy ran with great haste grateful for the lack of healer robes as she quickly made her way down the set of stairs. The doors were open for her as she slid inside, making her way towards Hermione Granger manoeuvring around everyone in the process. Thankfully there weren’t many visitors, all of them were sleeping, having spent the night before doing all they could to help or sitting near friends and family. Some were actually sleeping at the side of their friends and families, not willing to leave their side. The only ones Poppy allowed to remain were those that had someone in critical condition. She would never forgive herself if anything happened and they were alone, and basically didn’t get to say goodbye. 

“What happened?” asked Poppy, rolling up her sleeves, as she checked Hermione’s vital signs. 

“I checked on everyone and noticed she has a high fever and was having trouble breathing, I’ve used a spell to ease the congestion that’s all. She had her blood replenishing potion ten minutes ago, no other potion.” said Slughorn in a quick profession manner. Although the look on his face, and the way he was wringing his hands indicted he wasn’t as professional as he hoped to be. Then again he wasn’t a professional at the end of the day, at least not in the medical profession, he was a Potions Master, with basic healing knowledge that was as far as it went. He had medical training for his Mastery at the age of eighteen probably, just like the others. Some stayed on top, like Severus others didn’t touch into the healing side again. 

“Thank you,” said Poppy, her eyes were dilated, fever, with the cuts she may have an infection despite how clean she’d kept the wounds. Chanting a diagnostic to see what was going on, quickly and efficiently she had the results and began to read them. She was right, Hermione Granger had caught Sepsis. Rushing over to the cupboard which was filled with everything they’d need, the House-Elves had been lifesavers, helping get everything brought down at a quick pace. Her fingers sought out two potions in particular and placed them in her apron, before taking a IV bag, she would definitely need it right now. She had to get fluids in her system, they didn’t normally need to use such a Muggle thing often since potions helped them. 

“Poppy do you want me to go to the Hospital wing and aid Auror Dearborn?” enquired Slughorn, looking away when Poppy stuck a needle into Grangers arm. 

“No, it needs to be a healer. You can help me sit her up so I can give her the potions,” said Poppy, hoisting her up keeping a hold of her back and neck. Slughorn came around and helped, leaving her arms free, grabbing the potions from her apron, double checking them she uncorked them and eased Grangers head back a little and poured the potion in, rubbing at the throat, forcing her to swallow them. She repeated the process with the other potion before nodding at Slughorn who then eased her back down. “There, that’s all I can do for now.” slipping the chart into her hands she began to write everything down, that was an additional two potions the girl would need, which meant she would need to give her a nutrient potion, but that could be put in an IV along with the fluids. 

“What about a cool compress?” asked Slughorn, she was still really hot. 

“Good idea, Horace.” said Poppy, “Accio cloth!” she caught it with experience and added another charm on it to keep it cool, before pressing it against Grangers head. Once she was done for the moment, she put the clipboard at the bottom of the bed and looked over the more injured patients just to be sure they were on the mend. 

“Is there no other healers available, Poppy? You look ready to drop down any moment…have you even gotten a decent amount of sleep since this all started?” asked Slughorn, although truth be told, he hadn’t been sleeping well full stop. He had been terrified Tom would come to the school, either kill him or worse still try and get him to join the Death Eaters. He wouldn’t do it, couldn’t have done it, not even to save his own skin. He had a strong sense of moral, even if it seemed to everyone else he only cared about wealth and fortune. Yes he liked his comforts but didn’t everyone? Of course they did, it was a way of life. 

“Unfortunately not, but in the next few days it should calm down,” admitted Poppy, she prayed it did. Her body could only go so far with so little sleep and Pepper-Up potions. Before long she would pass out as well, especially considering her body wasn’t used to going such lengths. Those at St. Mungo’s might be more used to it, but not for extended periods, just days at a time. 

“I hope for your sake it does,” said Slughorn honestly, she really didn’t look good at all. He didn’t have the experience to help while she rested for a while. 

“I do as well,” said Poppy. 

“Madam Pomfrey? My sister wants to know if she can go to her dorm now?” said Padma Patil, she still had her uniform on, her Ravenclaw school tie lose against her dirty shirt. She hadn’t left her twin sisters side the entire time she had been in here. 

“How are you feeling Parvati?” asked Poppy, wandering over to the girl. 

“I’m feeling a lot better now,” said Parvati, she wanted out of his hospital gown and into her own pyjamas. She hadn’t got much sleep because of the hustle and bustle, but she didn’t mind too much. She did however, really want her bed, and proper sleep. 

“Alright, but if you feel bad I want you to come back down do you understand?” said Poppy warning the girl not to let herself get sick again. 

“I will,” promised Parvati solemnly. 

“Keep the arm in a sling, and eat and drink as much as you can, you will probably need a pain reliever some time tonight or tomorrow, I want you to come and see me then.” said Poppy. 

“I will,” she repeated, swinging her legs over the bed, letting her sister help her get up. 

“Put these on, there’s still some debris lying on the floor,” said Poppy, handing her a pair of slippers she had summoned. 

“I’ll do it,” insisted Padma, taking them before helping her sister get into them. She wasn’t going to leave her alone, so she would be staying in Gryffindor common room with her. She would need to tell her Head of House, so he didn’t worry but considering a lot of people were doing the same thing for siblings - it wouldn’t be a problem. “There, come on, thank you Madam Pomfrey.” 

“Just take care,” said Poppy, giving them a small smile before the twins were leaving the hospital. Poppy then banished the clipboard to her office in the hospital wing. She would file it later, but right now she had other things to do. Parvati had been on the end of a rather nasty bone breaking hex, her wand hand too. If not for her sisters vicious vigilance she would have been easy picking for the Death Eaters to finish off. 

\------0 

Albus Dumbledore opened his tired eyes, finding himself staring up at blue skies, why was he in the Great Hall? Weakly looking around he found himself in a made do Hospital, his twinkless eyes staring around at the sick and injured morosely. What had happened to him? He wanted answers, his blue eyes roamed the hall trying to find someone who he could ask. “Horace?” called Albus, when he found a familiar figure - even with his back to him he was unmistakable. 

“Albus!” said Slughorn, smiling at the powerful wizard. “How are you feeling my old friend?” although after what he’d seen Harry Potter would be overtaking him. He didn’t care that he hadn’t in fact lay the landing blow on Tom he had fought him and kept himself above water so to speak. 

“What happened?” he asked, sitting up suppressing the moan of agony with success. 

“Just stay down and get better, Albus,” said Slughorn concerned. 

“I’m perfectly fine,” insisted Albus, despite the fact his stomach was rumbling viciously, protesting at having waited so long for something to eat. “What happened?” the last thing he could remember was a killing curse being aimed at him by Severus Snape no less! Had he tried to kill him? Or had he always known this would happen? What had happened? 

“You’ve been asleep for nearly four months,” explained Slughorn sitting down on the chair next to Albus’ bed, the one Minerva had been constantly sitting in. He secretly thought Minerva had a crush on Albus, nobody was too old to have crushes in his opinion, or she loved him. Nobody else had been acting like that to see Albus since this whole thing was revealed. In fact many students had asked about Harry, they knew he had been taken out of Hogwarts by Professor Snape. 

“Four months?” gaped Albus shocked, “What happened to my school?” he then asked possessively. 

“Technically you aren’t the headmaster, Albus, you’d been pronounced dead. Severus took over from you, the Death Eaters infiltrated the Ministry and the school…such terrible times,” he said, sounding grim as he recalled those past few months. “It’s been very difficult for us all, especially the students.” he’d had to stand by as they were cursed with an Unforgivable, it went against everything he was to do so, but he wouldn’t have been good to the students dead. It had been the same for all of them, it would take a long time for them to truly recover from what happened. 

“And Harry? Is Harry dead?” asked Albus, terrified of the answer. If he was alive then this madness wasn’t over, Voldemort could and would eventually find his way back. 

“Dead?” said Slughorn, gazing at his friend penetratingly, if he didn’t know any better he would have thought Albus wanted that to be the case. Was that possible? No, Albus had always seemed rather fond of Harry, but Albus did seem desperate and not in a good way, that couldn’t be denied. Still watching him closely he answered his friends question, praying he had gotten the wrong end of the stick. “Of course not, he defeated Voldemort…in a manner of speaking.” he had told the basilisk to do it he presumed. The look on Albus’ face truly alarmed Horace, he did not look happy at all. 

“I must speak with him, immediately.” demanded Albus. 

“Just remain on the bed, you’re body has been through a lot,” said Horace, “I’ll find him.” he lied solely to placate him. 

Albus relaxed and nodded his head, believing Horace when he said he would bring Harry here to speak to him. 

“I’ll be right back,” said Horace, standing up and swiftly making his way over to the healer. “Poppy?” he whispered his eyes shadowed with alarm. 

“What’s wrong?” asked Poppy, that look hadn’t been in anyone’s eyes for the last day or so now. 

“I think…Albus may have suffered some mental damage,” said Horace, looking back over at the Headmaster. 

“Why?” Poppy demanded, genuinely taken aback. Her mind trying to think of all potential damages that Horace was speaking off, she drew blank very quickly. The potion didn’t cause mental manage, it was impossible, it had been used for a lot longer than a few months and they had been perfected unharmed. The first time such a potion had been used had been due to medical purposes, they didn’t have a way of healing a certain illness that was killing a loved one. They’d invented a potion that put the body basically in stasis without harming them, until an anti-dote or reverse charm had been found. 

“I could be wrong, but he sounds like he wanted Harry to be dead.” said Horace, the doubt in his voice conveyed that he wasn’t mistaken at all. “He’s demanding Harry’s presence right now, I told him I would look for him despite the fact he’d not here…he might need St. Mungo’s.” 

“How sure are you?” asked Poppy, looking pale, to hear even a suspicion of such a thing twisted her stomach something rotten. 

“Poppy…I know Albus, I’ve known him for years,” said Horace, “I wouldn’t be saying this unless I was absolutely sure.” he didn’t even like the thoughts in his own mind for Merlin’s sake, but it could not be denied. 

“Alright, I’ll have him transferred to the side room in the Hospital wing as soon as possible, until we can determine the damage, I’ll sneak in a dreamless sleeping potion into some soup while you make yourself scarce for a few minutes. Afterwards I’ll need to get to the hospital wing and finish up with Auror Dearborn.” Poppy told him determinedly. 

“San?” called Poppy, calling for her personal House-Elf. 

“Yes Mistress Poppy?” said San appearing in front of her Mistress, gazing at her with big green eyes filled with curiosity. 

“I need a bowl of soul with two spoonfuls of Dreamless sleeping potion added to it, as soon as possible please.” said Poppy, so quietly that only herself, the House-Elf and Horace could hear. 

“Yes ma’am, San will be doing that immediately.” said San, they had plenty of soup, since injured and sick people only got filling hearty foods. 

“Go on now,” said Poppy, “He is looking this way.” she didn’t want to have to stun the wizard then force the potion down his throat. 

“How are you feeling, Albus?” asked Poppy, gazing down at him without revealing any of her inner struggles. 

“Where’s Harry?” demanded Dumbledore. 

“I’m not sure, Horace just asked,” said Poppy, lying through her teeth, “He wasn’t injured.” 

“Bowl of soup for Mistress Poppy,” said San reappearing with the requested food. 

“Thank you, San, you may go now.” Poppy told her, taking the bowl from her and facing Albus again. “Drink this while it’s still hot, you need to eat to keep your strength up. You know the rules about people visiting if the patient is under the weather, even you Albus.” placing the warm soup against his lap, the spoon clattered nosily in it. 

Straightening up, she looked around mentally calculating how many others were still there, and the room freely available in the Hospital wing. It might be a tight fit but everyone would fit in, three of the patients must have been released by Healer Wren when she was asleep. So far four of her patients had left the Great Hall. She hoped they were being looked after properly, at the very least taking care of themselves. It would take a while to get them actually in the Hospital wing, two at a time with stretchers, they couldn’t be Apparated nor could the House-Elves transport them, at least not the more injured ones. 

Those that could feed themselves were currently being given food by the House-Elves popping in with trays for them. Looking down at Albus, she saw he had drank the bowl, good, the potion would kick in very soon. Knowing she wouldn’t have to worry about him, she quickly left the Great Hall again, to find Horace standing by the door repairing a bit of damage done to the marble stairs. 

“Same deal as before, if they need me just send me a message.” said Poppy, meeting him at the stairs. 

“No problem…did he…” asked Horace not getting to finish before Poppy replied. 

“Yes, he will be asleep by now,” confirmed Poppy, before turning away and running up the stairs, taking a very familiar path to her - leading to the Hospital Wing. 

\-----0 

“Severus Snape, Prince Manor!” shouted Poppy, sticking her head into the green flames, and coming out immediately at the other end - exactly where she wanted to be. 

“Hello Madam Pomfrey,” said Luna, smiling at her from the living room. “Is everything okay? How is Ollivander?” 

“He’s doing extremely well, thanks to your quick actions. Is Se…Headmaster here? I need to speak with him?” asked Poppy giving Luna a small reassuring smile that was fooling nobody. 

“I’ll just get him,” she said, as if she wasn’t speaking about the few formidable wizards in the United Kingdom.

“Thank you,” said Poppy, moving slightly, she had forgotten to put a cushioning charm on the floor, her knees were beginning to ache and bother her more than it usually did. 

“You wished to see me?” asked Severus, entering the room, his black eyes piercing, he’d only spoken to her six hours ago - something was up. 

“May I come through?” enquired Poppy, not really wishing to have the conversation (that quite incidentally could be overheard) over the Floo. 

“You may,” said Severus flicking his wand out allowing people to come through but the charm was temporarily, he preferred it that way. Poppy’s face disappeared from the Floo afterwards, he knew this was going to be a long conversation, he could feel it in his bones. “Dobby? Bring some coffee, tea and a some sandwiches to the living room please.” 

The Floo flared and Poppy stepped through, looking more exhausted than he’d ever seen her. Since he had seen her lose sleep before it was saying something, especially when the Flu pandemic struck just after he became a teacher, and of course during the whole chamber of secrets fiasco. “Take a seat, you look like you could use it.” murmured Severus, sardonically. 

Poppy gratefully took a weight off, not even having the strength to muster up a glare at Severus’ sarcastic nature. 

“Thank you, Dobby.” Severus said gratefully, nodding at the House-Elf as he passed over a cup to the exhausted healer and took a seat with one of his own. 

“So what is happening?” demanded Severus, not sure whether he wanted to hear it or not. 

“Albus woke up,” confided Poppy, “Unfortunately he…seems erratic, Horace said that Albus was extremely agitated when he learned that Harry had survived the encounter with You-Know-Who.” 

“He is dead now, Poppy, do not let him win, call him by his true first name or his preferred name, not the nonsense the media cooked up.” Severus said to her, finding it difficult not to roll his eyes. 

“Habit hard to break, especially these past months,” said Poppy tiredly. Gulping down the steaming hot brew, it was strong, good, it was exactly what she needed right now. 

Severus nodded grimly, understand all too well, it had been taking its toll on him too. 

“You didn’t react, I just told you Albus seems disappointed that Harry survived…what is going on Severus? What do you know that I don’t?” cried Poppy, realizing belated that Severus hadn’t reacted at all. 

“This information doesn’t leave the room, is that understood? Not under any circumstances.” said Severus in warning. 

“Of course,” agreed Poppy, she wasn’t one to gossip about other peoples lives. She was very good at keeping secrets, after all she had to, since she couldn’t reveal information, due to the doctor-patient confidentiality agreement that came to all healers on duty or off. 

“Have you never wondered how the Dark Lord survived, Poppy? How he kept coming back? First with Quirrell then the diary and last but no means least after the Tournament?” wondered Severus, sipping the coffee, eyeing the witch keenly. 

“I must admit, it has crossed my mind more than just once or twice,” confessed Poppy, nabbing a few small sandwiches from the plate, she was starving. All she’d had in the past nearing enough two days was two bowls of soup and a bar of chocolate on the go. They might just be something plain but right now she enjoyed them immensely. 

“What were your thoughts?” Severus was just curious at this point. 

“Nothing that seems to ring true,” mused Poppy, “Closest I think is that perhaps the rebounding Killing Curse wasn’t enough to cause You---Voldemort’s death.” 

“Close, Voldemort had created Horcruxes, Poppy, he had split his soul into seven pieces total, but only one was unintentional.” said Severus grimly. 

“No!” gasped Poppy, her hand over her mouth to conceal her horror. 

“Six had been created throughout his life, the seventh was created the night of Lily and James’ death. It latched onto the closest thing possible, I’m sure I don’t need to explain further.” said Severus, gritting his teeth, he hated talking about Lily’s death. 

“Harry?” rasped Poppy, her eyes widening almost comically, but there was nothing funny about this current conversation. “Oh my dear Merlin, Severus, does he know?” her eyes filled with tears, she was very fond of Harry, and the thought of anything happening to him broke her heart. What did it mean for Harry that he was a Horcrux? Would Voldemort be able to come back through him? She didn’t even want to think about it. 

“He figured it out himself, most due to Dumbledore’s words.” Severus told her his tone icy just speaking about the old fool. 

“His words?” questioned Poppy. 

“Indeed, when Harry was twelve, after the chamber fiasco, Dumbledore said the Dark Lord had transferred part of himself into Harry, at twelve he didn’t understand the significance. However…when I realized what we were dealing with…he figured it out himself.” replied Severus, remembering that day vividly, Harry had been terrified. “He was inconsolable, anyone would have been in his place, even I would have been.” 

“We must protect him from Albus,” said Poppy, a tremble in her voice, “I don’t care about anything else.” 

“It is no longer in him,” stated Severus calmly, “I was hardly going to let a piece of the Dark Lord remain in my son. Especially after I had promised him that I would do everything I could to remove it.” 

“How?” queried Poppy, calming down. 

“A potion I created, it stopped his heart from beating long enough for the Horcrux to die, before I resuscitated him.” revealed Severus, none of the panic he’d felt that day showing on his face. 

“I assume that Dumbledore doesn’t know that little detail?” it wasn’t really a question, she already knew the answer. 

“Of course not, ever since I realized what he had known and kept to himself, I’ve been very displeased with him.” talk about an understatement of the century. 

“It was you,” said Poppy, groaning, she should have realized it sooner. “You did something to both Umbridge and Dumbledore that year didn’t you?” 

Severus smirked before he took a drink not gracing her with an answer - not that she needed one. 

“So much death, Severus,” sighed Poppy, changing the subject. “How is it that even after such devastation and adversary can we continue on?” 

“We overcome it because we must, in the face of adversary we show just how strong we are, empires have been demolished and we come out on top…there will always be someone looking for power, those that think because we don’t want to kill to have it, that we are too weak to seek it. For now we can just enjoy our new and greatly deserved freedom, and remember what the cost was. Perhaps in future we will have a Headmaster who doesn’t look the other way when potential Dark Lord’s make their appearances and mark at Hogwarts.” said Severus, his voice deep and thrilling to listen to. 

“As always Severus, you are correct,” admitted Poppy, smiling ruefully. He had such a way with words, he could convince anyone of anything of that she was certain. 

“Indeed,” replied Severus, simply. 

“How is Harry, can I see him while I’m here?” asked Poppy, still concerned about him despite the fact she knew Severus would never let anything happen to him. 

“Of course, follow me,” agreed Severus, standing up. 

Poppy didn’t need told twice, nor did she seem overly in awe of the beautiful manor. Then again she had been here multiple times before, although the last time had been two years ago, when Harry had the Dementor scare. 

“You have not asked,” Severus said cautiously. 

“Asked what?” Poppy blurted out confused. 

“About the fact I consider Harry my son, or why, when and how it happened.” stated Severus wryly. 

“Do you think I didn’t notice it at the beginning young man?” said Poppy, glancing at Severus as if to say ‘I’m not stupid’. 

“Nobody else did, for obvious reasons.” Severus replied bluntly. 

“True, but you don’t go around touching people, Severus. Yet your instincts the night Harry was hurt was to soothe him. Which you did, he calmed down after you reassured him. I think perhaps I realized the extent of your feelings before you even became fully aware of them. Then there was the obvious changes to Harry, he was calmer, more determined and healthier than I’ve ever seen him. He desperately needed somebody to ground him, before he got seriously hurt. It didn’t escape my notice that he wasn’t in the hospital wing that year either. You’ve been good for him, and there is nobody I’d trust more when Harry’s welfare is concerned. Knowing what I did about you and your feelings for Lily I expected it much sooner - yet I feared it would never happen. You also changed as well, you needed closure and caring for Harry has done that.” explained Poppy. 

Severus had nothing to say about that, he merely stopped outside Harry’s door before opening it and allowing Poppy to enter the room. 

“Do you want us to wait outside?” asked Neville, upon seeing Poppy. 

“It’s fine,” said Poppy raising her hand, stopping the teenager from getting up. 

“How are you feeling, Harry?” asked Poppy, wondering what the teenager thought about the fact nobody else other than her, Neville, Luna and Severus had yet to see him. 

“I’m feeling better,” said Harry, smiling at her, she didn’t need to come but she had. “You look like you could use this better more than me though.” 

Poppy chuckled in amusement, “So I’ve been told.” 

“Who died, Madam Pomfrey?” asked Luna, her usually dreamy eyes staring at the healer seriously. 

“Colin Creevy, Patricia Stimpson, Eleanor Branstone, Megan Jones, Cormac McLaggen, Marietta Edgecombe and Michael Conner.” said Poppy solemnly. 

“Three Gryffindors, I knew them, even if a few were…rude.” said Neville shaking his head, not really wishing to speak ill of the dead. 

“Edgecombe was a year older than me, she was good at spells,” Luna said quietly, but none of them had been close friends, in fact until Harry they really hadn’t had real friends. They were loners, not quite fitting into society, and wasn’t it odd that they’d suffered great tragedies too? 

“Who else?” asked Harry attentively. 

“Alastor Moody, John Dawlish, Dedalus Diggle, Elphias Doge, Raymond Savage, Mundungus Fletcher, Sturgis Podmore, Jack Proudfoot and Brian Smith, Richard Brandwich, Steven Seylen, Amanda Kern, Eliza Wormwood, Rachel Brown.” revealed Poppy. They were the ones that she knew about, others had been taken straight to St. Mungo’s, not all the dead had been taken to the Great Hall. 

“That’s nearly every single known Auror,” said Severus quite frankly alarmed. 

“I know, Severus, I know.” nodded Poppy tiredly. 

“Did they catch Lucius Malfoy?” enquired Severus, he was probably the most dangerous of the Death Eaters left. 

“Not that I am aware, but I haven’t read the papers,” said Poppy, “I’m sure there will be manhunts for him, Sirius Black is now an innocent man, Dearborn took Pettigrew to the Ministry personally, to make sure of it.” 

The silence after that spoke volumes. 

“Come, Poppy, you really need to get some sleep,” said Severus.

“You take care of yourself, you hear?” said Poppy patting Harry on the arm. “I’ll be by to see you when you are feeling better.” 

“I will, I promise.” said Harry honestly, like he would get away with not taking care of himself. 

“Are you returning to Hogwarts, Severus? You are the Headmaster, you know.” said Poppy, as she walked around Harry’s bed, the room he was in was well stamped in Harry’s personality. It warmed her heart seeing it, oh yes, he definitely had a home. She almost felt sorry for Sirius Black, but considering he hadn’t even asked about Harry once well…she found herself not caring too much. 

“I will be to speak to Albus tomorrow,” said Severus. 

“Can I come?” asked Harry, sitting up further. 

“You are in no condition to be walking anywhere.” said Severus sternly. 

“Please?!” he said desperately. 

“We will discuss it tomorrow and see if you are well enough to make the trip.” replied Severus, more firmly. 

“Alright,” conceded Harry, knowing he wouldn’t get better than that. 

“Good.” said Severus, closing the door behind them. 

“Has Black asked about Harry?” Severus asked her as soon as they were far enough down the corridor. 

“No, Severus, not to me. In fact he disappeared sometime during the night with Remus Lupin, I’ve not seen either of them since.” admitted Poppy. “He doesn’t seem to disappointed or overly happy that Sirius has been freed but considering he already has an adult in his life… I didn’t expect him to do a happy dance.” she said as she wandered down the stairs. 

“I hope not,” said Severus, he couldn’t and wouldn’t ever get along with Black, not just because they were enemies, but because of how he had disregarded Harry so many times. It would kill him if Harry chose Black over him, he prayed it wouldn’t come to pass. 

“Trust me, he doesn’t need anyone else,” said Poppy, realizing he was insecure. 

“Get some rest, I’ll be through sometime between eleven and one,” said Severus, not setting a specific time. 

“I will be back on duty by then,” said Poppy, grasping a handful of Floo Powder as she stepped into the green flames. “Bye for now.” 

Severus nodded and watched Poppy Floo out of his home, the war was over, but the cost was very high, all those deaths…but as he’d said earlier they would come out on top. Perhaps not Albus when he finally got to unleash hell on the manipulative bastard. Oh he would learn he wasn’t as all knowing as he liked to think he was. He wanted to kill his son? Well he would have to go through him, if it came to it, he would damn well kill Dumbledore for real this time should he try anything.


	74. Chapter 74

A New Place To Stay 

Chapter 74 

Sirius’ Freed as well as a surprising someone else... - Minerva’s confession and Harry’s curious 

“Congratulations Mr. Black you are now officially a free man,” said Scrimgeour, staring at the Ex-Auror and wrongfully (not convicted) criminal. “If you are interested…we are short of Aurors and we need all the help we can get to have the department up and running.” thankfully the idiot who had approved wizards and witches being sent to Azkaban prison without trial, no longer worked there. She had probably been the shortest (term wise) Minister of them all, she had listened to Crouch Sr when she shouldn’t have. Not everyone was happy with people being imprisoned or the Aurors freely being allowed to cast the Unforgivables. Funnily enough that had never been redacted; they were still allowed to use them. If she had been still working in the Ministry, to save face they would have had her fired. They could still blame her; she had best not show her face for a while, until the heat died down. He certainly wasn’t going to take the blame for something that had happened when he was an Auror. 

 

“I always should have been,” said Sirius, bitterness tingeing his voice at the injustice that had been forced upon him. His job back? He certainly hadn’t expected that! Then again he had basically said they didn’t have anyone to run the department or Aurors full stop. Harry would be joining the department this year of next year; he probably wanted to be an Auror like his dad. He certainly fought like one, better than one, at least according to what everyone was saying. The rumours were hilariously funny, saying Harry had killed Voldemort with a Basilisk, Harry didn’t have a Basilisk. “I’ll do it.” he added after a few minutes of silence. 

“You wish to be an Auror again?” Scrimgeour was merely wishing for confirmation on what he already knew. Fudge was being yanked back as an Auror as well; either that or he could retire early. He needed more Auror’s to round up the remaining Death Eaters, especially Lucius Malfoy. He could scarcely believe his ears really, Black actually wanted to come back and work for the Ministry after what happened? Maybe he should have his head tested, see if he was alright up there. He didn’t think he would be so forgiving if it had been done to him that’s for damn certain. 

“Yes,” said Sirius, unable to turn down the chance to work with Harry side by side, it would be just like old times. James would be so proud of his son, not only had he defeated Voldemort but had emerged triumphant and unhurt. Plus if he was working with him he would be spending more time than Snape - he would have to distance that relationship since he was here now, free, he could look after him properly. He didn’t need greasy Snivellus anymore; he couldn’t possibly mean it when he called him dad! James was his father, and he would help the boy see that. It must be trauma or gratitude; nobody could love the greasy git. 

“Very well, report to Kingsley Shacklebolt on Monday morning for your first shift.” said Scrimgeour, if he thought he would just go into the field he had another thing coming. No he would be put trough a series of tests to make sure his mind and body was still up to it, along with Fudge and a few others. He didn’t care if Black had just helped fight the war, he didn’t want any more deaths happening because they were desperate. 

Sirius nodded grudgingly he’d assumed he would be the one doing the leading; it was probably better this way. He didn’t want to be Harry’s superior it would make things awkward. This way he could keep him safe, and do everything he wanted to. This was going to be awesome, he though inwardly, doing a happy dance. It was going to be so much fun, going on missions with him, this would really help them bond like they should have all along. He couldn’t wait to tell him, hopefully without Snape nearby, he couldn’t believe he’d survived. 

“Your compensation will be deposited into the bank number you’ve given us, we apologise about the wand, but it looks like you’ve found a good replacement.” said Scrimgeour. Hoping to get this over with, he had so much to do, and with all the death…he quite frankly just wanted to crawl into his bed and not emerge until it was over. Unfortunately at the reinstated Minister, he had to keep the peace, give the orders and pray that everything calmed down quickly. All things considered it could have been worse, he was lucky to be alive himself; if it wasn’t for the Auror’s loyal to the Ministry forcing him to leave he would have been killed. 

Pius Thicknesse had been released from the Imperius Curse following Voldemort’s defeat, and had been given his old job back. He was now the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He would be coming back on Monday morning as well; they had a lot to get through to feel even remotely normal. He was glad the wizard said he was feeling up to it, he’d been stunned during the battle, so he hadn’t done any murdering of innocent children or Auror’s otherwise he doubted very much the wizard would be in any shape to return. 

“Thank you,” said Sirius, some bitterness at the fact his twelve years in Azkaban was being dismissed so easily…he would get over it sooner or later. 

Scrimgeour wasn’t even paying the slightest bit of attention to Sirius Black anymore; he was sitting at his desk going through the paperwork, which was quite literally towering over his sitting form. He was without an assistant at the moment, so absolutely everything was going through him right now. The pile just continued to grow, despite the fact he had been here for two days without going home, taking a few hours nap in his office from time to time, when he could no longer keep his eyes open. 

Sirius walked out of the office, making his way towards the Atrium, the normal hustle and bustle that usually took place in the Ministry wasn’t present today. In fact it was pretty much deserted, either they were out on duty or holed up in their offices, maybe even taking the day off - but he doubted that was the case. Where would Harry be? He hadn’t seen him brought to Hogwarts so maybe he wasn’t hurt…so where else could he have gone? His stuff was at Grimmauld Place, so he would need to go for it at some point - maybe he should wait there until he came. 

“Grimmauld Place!” Sirius said into the green flames as he threw the Floo powder at his feet, his arms tightly at his side as he began to shoot through the network until he reached his townhouse. Only then was he promptly spat out, as the Secret Keeper he was the only one that could get in and out, he realized belatedly. He would need to remove it so Harry could come and get his stuff. Curiosity got the better of him, maybe he could find out where Harry was living if he looked through his stuff. 

Jogging up the stairs, he opened the door to the second biggest bedroom in the townhouse; he had the Master bedroom which was bigger than the others. He noticed the lack of trunk immediately, which caused him to frown in confusion and enter the room fully. His face blank he looked around flummoxed. Where on earth had Harry’s belongings gone? He couldn’t have come in for them himself, the Secret Keeper was the only one who could exit and enter the building unless they had his permission. 

“Kreacher?!” hissed Sirius, gritting his teeth. 

“What does nasty Master want?” wheezed Kreacher, gazing at Sirius with unconcealed hatred and disgust. 

“Where are my godson’s belongings? What have you done with them?” snapped Sirius, gazing at him in pure and undulated revulsion. When it came to the pair of them, their hatred was mutual. 

“I don’t know where they are,” said Kreacher honestly, working his way around the questions Black had asked. His Master didn’t want Black to know where he was, or that he’d helped him. So Kreacher was going to make sure that he didn’t find out, it also helped that he got perverse pleasure out of getting one over Black. 

“Leave, useless thing,” shouted Sirius, extremely irate. 

“Will nasty Master Black give Kreacher clothes?” snarled Kreacher, bearing his teeth; he’d rather have his head on a pike than continue to work for this waste of space that had broken his mother’s heart. He was rather hoping that Black was angry enough to do what he wanted dearly. 

Then to his astonishment Sirius removed his cloak, his face an ugly mask of abhorrence, before he flung it at the House-Elf, barrelling him into the bed where he hit his head quite nastily as well. Kreacher didn’t even cry out at the pain blazing behind his eyes, he was used to such violence, as depressing as it sounded, this was normal for him. He stared at the cloak for what seemed like forever, not paying attention to Sirius Black’s temper tantrum or him leaving the room. 

He was free, thought Kreacher, unable to believe his good luck, or good fortune. Standing up shakily, not paying any attention to the streak of blood running down his head. A smug smile played across his face, he almost wanted to jump around but he was too old for something like that. Popping to the portrait of his mistress, saying a quiet goodbye to her, he would definitely miss her but he was too glad to be away from Black to really care much right now. Pressing his long gangly hand against his chest, making sure his most treasured possession was still there. The locket that Master Harry had given him, the one that had belonged to Master Regulus, knowing he wouldn’t be back here if he left it behind by accident. 

With that Kreacher disappeared with a pop never to return to his most hated Master or the home he had looked after for so long. 

 

\------0

Poppy felt a lot better once she was in familiar territory, and her Hospital Wing was exactly that. Everyone had been settled down, with the help of the House-Elves who brought those less injured to the Hospital Wing, the rest were brought down by a surprising number of people who elected to help. Horace had been a godsend, helping her when she needed it, allowing both her and healer Wren to catch up on much needed sleep. Minerva, Filius, Sprout and Trelawney had helped her get the injured here, with minimal trips back and forth. The stairs had been tricky to navigate with injured patience on a stretcher but they’d managed. Albus was in the side room, still doped up on Dreamless Sleeping draughts, which would wear off just in time for Severus’ visit. 

Poppy sat down in her chair, a coffee sat next to her in a collapsible table she was using right now, not wishing to go to her office just in case anything happened, she really preferred to see her patients right now. She opened the newspaper and sighed softly, three more people had died residents from Hogsmeade who had aided them when Hogwarts needed it most. They had been too injured for even the best of healers to mend, poor dears. True to her thoughts, there was a man hunt for Lucius Malfoy, but the biggest announcement in the paper that day was news of Sirius Black’s innocence, he had been cleared of all charges against his name. Pictures of Peter Pettigrew’s dead corpse were on view for everyone to see. Not something she liked the thought of, eleven year old children read this newspaper after all, but thankfully they were still distracted by everything that had happened to read newspapers. 

“Can I join you?” asked Minerva, entering the hospital wing, looking unsure of her welcome. 

“Of course,” said Poppy, wondering at Minerva’s hesitance, it wasn’t like her that’s for sure. “San? Another coffee please and some biscuits.” she knew Minerva liked Scottish shortbread and ginger snaps with her coffee. 

“Have you managed to get some sleep?” asked Minerva, still feeling awkward, Poppy had never spoken to her in such a manner before, and it had made her realise she was being extremely annoying towards the matron. Who was quite literally rushed off her feet, this was the first time she’d actually been in the same room with her, discounting her help in getting the injured to the Hospital Wing but they hadn’t been alone. 

A cup of coffee and a plate of a nice selection of biscuits appeared on the table next to Poppy’s. 

“Yes, thanks to Horace, he’s been a great help,” said Poppy, it made her regret her thoughts about him. He was nowhere near Severus’ level at brewing potions, to say the potions had been less than stellar was putting it mildly. Thankfully Severus had re-brewed the more important potions - which had come in handy these past few days, as had Horace’s since they were doubled in amount. Severus had already been extremely busy, but he’d brewed potions to help ease the symptoms of the Cruciatus Curse. Not able to do it to his usual standards, but not lacking in a way that would harm the students. Severus just couldn’t take the risk in being caught helping them when he was supposed to be on the other side after all. Everyone would assume that Severus wouldn’t make second rate potions, which made it safe for him to do so- everyone assumptions continued to work in his favour. He might not be the best potions brewer, but he was a good man and that was all that mattered. 

“Yes, yes he has, he’d kept the students remarkably calm with his tales,” said Minerva. The students were eating their lunch in the Great Hall, another return of normalcy for them. In a week classes would resume as normal, hopefully by then the rest of the students would be in perfect health. 

“It’s what they need,” Poppy said nodding her head, as she reached for her brew. 

“How are the students?” asked Minerva, looking around at their sleeping faces. It was just the students now; the adults had been transferred to St. Mungo’s now that things had calmed down. 

“Most of them are recovering well, only Miss Granger is unknown at the moment, but she’s strong and pulling through for now.” said Poppy, staring over at the teenager exasperated. She was one of those students who thought they could do everything, just because they read a book. It wasn’t that simple, she’d read hundreds of books on healing before she became an apprentice, but that didn’t make her a healer. She had to practice, hard, relentlessly to get to where she was, but Granger seemed to think it was simple. 

“I hope she does,” said Minerva, she had been the one to convince the girl’s parents that she would be safe and happy at Hogwarts. 

“Has anyone even thought of contracting her parents?” asked Poppy, pursing her lips. 

“I have tried, their last known address is now deserted, no sign that the Grangers ever lived there I searched the property from top to bottom.” admitted Minerva. 

“Perhaps they moved? After Granger came to Hogwarts?” suggested Poppy, “They certainly wouldn’t be the first family not to alert the school of a change in address.” 

“I went to their work place; I was told they had moved out of the country, sold their practice and home before leaving nearing four months ago.” Minerva told her shaking her head. 

“Four months…same time as Albus supposedly died and the war escalated, perhaps Granger convinced her parents to leave the country in a bid to keep them safe?” suggested Poppy, joining the dots. 

“It’s possible,” agreed Minerva, truth be told she hadn’t even thought of that. It should have occurred to her sooner, but that was life. 

“I’m sure she can answer our questions when she’s better,” said Poppy, finishing the contents of her cup and putting it down. 

“I apologise for my actions yesterday Poppy, you were under tremendous strain and I wasn’t helping the slightest, I should never have badgered you so much.” Minerva told her softly, filled with regret. 

“You were merely concerned, Minerva, there is nothing to forgive,” said Poppy, reassuring the woman quietly. 

“No, I do need forgiveness, many of my students were injured, and I was only concerned about one man, who wasn’t even hurt…whether I knew him for years doesn’t come into it.” said Minerva, “It’s why I am thinking of stepping down as Deputy Headmistress, to remind myself that one person isn’t more important than the students under my care.” 

“You did remember, Minerva, and that is what matters most.” said Poppy, “I urge you to reconsider, but if you are determined to do this then…there is nothing I can say to prevent it.” she knew how stubborn Minerva was, almost as stubborn as her, but when she wouldn’t be swayed even by Albus, Minerva could be. 

Minerva just smiled grimly, she didn’t want to do it, but the fact was she had let her students down, not just her cubs but everyone. She had also let herself down by believing the worst in a colleague she’d trusted with her life repeatedly, despite knowing what she did. A sad sigh left her lips, knowing Severus as she did, he would never forgive her neither would Harry. 

“Minerva, Sluggy said you’d be down here,” said Sirius, entering the Hospital Wing. “Where’s Harry? Gryffindor Common room?” he asked expectantly. 

“His name is Professor Slughorn,” frowned Poppy, honestly, Sirius was old enough to know better. 

“What’s the password for the Common Room?” asked Sirius, rolling his eyes at Poppy not bothered about her getting on at him for calling Slughorn, Sluggy. 

“Harry is not at Hogwarts, he went home with his father.” said Poppy, barely able to stop herself from gritting her teeth at his petulance. 

“Harry’s father is dead!” snapped Sirius, entering the room fully. 

“Silence!” she snapped, “I have ill patients in here, and they need quiet and rest. If you cannot refrain from making a nuisance of yourself I will eject you from the room.” and since she was back in her ward, she could do exactly that, unlike when she was in the Great Hall. 

“Snape isn’t Harry’s father, he’s just confused!” said Sirius, more calmly, determinedly. 

“Harry thinks otherwise,” said Poppy, just as determined. 

“Harry think’s what exactly?” asked Harry, standing at the doors staring at the three of them suspiciously, Severus right behind him. 

“Harry!” cried Sirius, looking relieved to see him. 

“What do I think otherwise?” he asked again, staring at Poppy, arching an eyebrow looking very much like his self proclaimed father. He didn’t need to worry about him so much anymore; he had sent copies of his memories to both Scrimgeour and Shacklebolt. They knew about the fact Severus had never intended on killing Dumbledore, that he was a spy for the wizard and always had been. He had been on page two of the Daily Prophet, an unsung hero’s tale, or so it said with a list of things Severus had done during his tenure as a spy for the side of light. Dumbledore would have no way of discrediting it since they’d gotten there first, and the memories provided unquestionable proof of his true loyalties.


	75. Chapter 75

A New Place To Stay 

Chapter 75 

Confrontations 

 

“Nothing, absolutely nothing,” said Sirius, before Poppy could open her mouth. He would have to do this slowly; obviously Harry thought he owed Snape something, which he didn’t. Just the sight of Snivellus was enough to turn his stomach, how he wanted to punch the smug bastard in the face, at least until he told Harry the truth. He was probably only doing this to get back at him and James, he was sure of it. Gritting his teeth, seeing Snape’s hands on his godson, Merlin why was Harry allowing it? 

“How are you feeling, Harry?” asked Poppy, moving around the table and approaching the teenager. Once she was in front of him, she pressed her hand against his forehead, he wasn’t abnormally hot but for the weather he was a tad bit too warm. He could see how he was leaning against Severus. Either Harry being Harry was able to argue an irrefutable case, or Severus thought he was at least well enough to come here for at least a little bit. “Did you walk here?” she asked Severus, staring at the wizard inquiringly. 

“No, we used the Floo Network to get to the Great Hall, I see the students are getting back to some semblance or normality.” said Severus, thankfully they hadn’t stared at him in fear like they had since Hogwarts started back up. In fact many of the seventh years who had not been hurt had nodded at him silently conveying their thanks. He could only assume they had read the paper, and realized he was responsible for Neville figuring out how to work the Room of Requirements properly so they could hide. Thus it prevented them from being tortured, at least any more than they already had. 

“As normal as things can be right now,” agreed Poppy, “I’m surprised more of them don’t want to go home, but those with magical parents have had their mothers or fathers visiting them just to make sure they were safe and unharmed.” 

“That’s hardly a surprise,” said Severus, nodding his head. 

“Do you want to lie down for a minute, Harry?” questioned Poppy, all the beds were freshly cleaned and made; only two were unoccupied at the moment. Knowing how stubborn Harry was, she already knew the answer but as always - had to ask. 

“I’ll be fine,” said Harry, giving her a small smile, still curious about what they were talking about before he came in. He had argued blue in the face until his dad had finally given in and let him come. He was stronger than that, he knew what his body could endure, despite the fact it had been years since he’d been in any kind of constant pain. Having a Potions Master as a father had helped in that regard, he also seemed to know him well enough to sniff out any hit of pain. He’d also just had a pain reliever, like literally before they used the Floo to come here. 

“If you’re sure,” said Poppy, giving in, knowing Harry would have to pass out before letting her help. He was just too stubborn for words, always had been since he was a young boy. He’d grown so much, she could still remember what he was like the first time she’d seen him in the hospital wing. 

A quiet pop invaded the hospital wing, Poppy looked around expecting San to have appeared to take away the used cups. 

“Kreacher! What happened?” asked Harry noticing the blood on the House-Elf and instantly became alarmed. Just like the time when he’d learned that Dobby had ironed his hands just trying to keep him safe. It was barbaric; he understood how it felt, to be used as a House-Elf, to be hurt for no reason, to be burnt. It wasn’t an iron and it hasn’t been self inflicted but it still happened, and it had hurt like a bitch. 

“Kreacher is free, Master Harry,” said Kreacher, staring at Harry, his eyes filled with apprehension, what if Harry didn’t want to take him on? It would mean he didn’t have Master, or a home, the thought nearly reduced the elder House-Elf to tears. Although it might have something to do with the knock on his head, since he wouldn’t have reacted that way on any other occasion. 

“What did you do?” hissed Harry, glaring at Sirius briefly before turning to inspect the wound on the back of Kreacher’s head. Harry removed his wand, and cast two spells, one to take the swelling down and another to seal the wound closed. As an afterthought he added one to cleanse the area so he didn’t end up with an infection. “Go home to Dobby; I’ll speak to you later, Kreacher.” 

“Is Master Harry taking Kreacher on as his House-Elf?” asked the Elf, perking up at the thought. Still slightly dazed at a wizard…A WIZARD had healed him. Even Master Regulus had never done such a thing, or maybe he just hadn’t been able to. Home, that had to be Prince Manor, Master Harry thought of that place as home. It looked magnificent from the outside; no doubt it would be just as beautiful inside, no more scrubbing grubby Grimmauld Place, no more Black, nice warm place to sleep, yes, he hoped Master Harry wanted him as his House-Elf. 

“We will talk about it later, alright? Just go find Dobby, he will show you to your room.” said Harry firmly, he couldn’t accept Kreacher on yet, not without him first having clothes to wear otherwise it would be just like freeing him. He knew that other House-Elves loathed the thought of being freed, unlike Dobby, so he had to do it right. 

“Why do you want the useless thing?” said Sirius, grimacing in disgust, he’d gotten a great deal of enjoyment out of finally getting rid of the thing now the war was over. He wasn’t however, enjoying the looks of barely concealed abhorrence on their faces, they unlike him, cared for the House-Elves and wouldn’t dream of misusing them. 

“Go.” said Harry. 

Kreacher almost pouted, he truly had a desire to see what was going down…which he could do…he would just have to be silent about it. With that he disappeared with a loud pop, and unbeknown to everyone else, he silently popped right back in, invisible to everyone. Since his Master Harry hadn’t taken him on yet, he was none the wiser about his presence right now. 

“You need help, major help.” said Harry, staring at Sirius in half horror and half disgust. He had always been…abusive and dismissive of Kreacher, he’d seen it with his own eyes and told Sirius what he thought then. He hadn’t seen him hurting Kreacher though, and the niggling thought went through him ‘if he could get physical with a House-Elf who else would he hurt?’ after all Kreacher was practically defenceless against its Master. 

“He’s just a House-Elf.” said Sirius, dismissing what Harry was saying; although he couldn’t get the way Harry was staring at him out of his mind. 

Harry inhaled sharply, it was like a kick in the gut, it shouldn’t have been but it was. 

“Severus…I’m so sorry,” said Minerva, approaching the black clad man with wariness. She wasn’t sure how he would take her apology, or if he would even accept it. 

“You should be,” sneered Severus, black eyes flashing menacingly, he’d had to put up with her snide comments. It had taken everything in him to hold him back, to stop himself from actually cursing her it had gotten that bad. Coming from him, it said a lot, since he’d had to put up with a lot over the years. At least Filius, Slughorn and Sprout had just ignored him when they could; they’d been confused mostly, and worried about the students. 

“You played your part so well, too well…Severus, I honestly thought we had lost you,” said Minerva, her tone quiet and sincere. 

“Lost me? Minerva I remember everything you’ve said to me, you didn’t care about that…it was all your precious little Dumbledore.” hissed Severus, half an ear listening in on the conversation Black was trying to force upon his son. 

“I know it may have come across that way, everything I’ve done seems to have come across as such, if you need to, give me Veritaserum to prove it.” said Minerva, strongly. 

Severus stared at her in surprise, could he believe her? Yes, since he could read her thoughts, not that he was delving in too far, but she was being honest. He wondered what had made her wake the hell up, and smell the coffee so to speak. Had she been told about Dumbledore and the fact he wanted to kill one of her Gryffindors? 

“An Auror? What makes you think I want to be an Auror?” Harry asked in surprise, his voice louder than he intended. He was happy that Sirius had been proven innocent, he had told him as such, but then he’d asked him if he wanted to move in and join him on the Auror course. Telling him about the things he and his father had gotten up to, but before Sirius could finish he had interrupted him, quite frankly flummoxed by his presumptions. 

“Quiet,” said Poppy, giving Harry a warning glance, nobody got away with being loud in the hospital wing, she wouldn’t allow it. It would be the same if anyone made noise and it was Harry in the hospital wing; they all deserved the same curtsey. 

“Sorry,” said Harry giving a little grimace. 

“Your father was one,” said Sirius, as if that was all the explaining necessary. “So was your grandfather, and great-grandfather, it’s a Potter tradition.” 

“It’s a Black tradition to delve into the Dark Arts but I don’t see you doing that, do you Black?” sneered Severus, defending his son.   
“If you are worried about not having enough N.E.W.T’s you don’t have to be, they’re really short on Auror’s right now, and since you defeated Voldemort they will make an exception.” urged Sirius, completely ignoring Snape as if he hadn’t even spoken. 

Minerva and Poppy stood between them, feeling extremely tense caught between Severus and Black as their argument began, and they both knew it was only going to escalate from there. 

“I. Don’t. Want. To. Be. An. Auror!” enunciated Harry, “Why the hell are you so determined to argue the point? Cant you just be happy I survived without trying to force me into something I don’t want?” 

“What do you want to do? Be a Potions Master like him!” spat Sirius, losing his temper, his hand wildly pointing at Snape. 

“I’m not good enough a potions for that,” said Harry swiftly, “I’m not sure what I want to do, but I have time to figure it out, at least my dad isn’t trying to force me into anything.” 

Poppy pursed her lips that were probably the last thing Harry should have said to Sirius, he hadn’t gotten over the shock of it yet. She unobtrusively cast a silencing spell around the area, knowing a screaming match was on the horizon. She had no idea why she wasn’t stopping the inevitable, perhaps because she didn’t want to get in the way and end up hurt. 

“He is not your father!” snapped Sirius, his hands moving to grab at Harry, as if to physically shake sense into his stubborn godson. 

In two quick movements, Harry had Sirius’ hands off him, before he pressed both hands forward and pushed Sirius bodily from him. Causing Sirius to lose his footing and fall into the cabinet with a loud bang. He wasn’t hurt, at least not physically but his pride was probably bruised. “Keep your hands off me.” after seeing what he’d done to Kreacher - Harry wasn’t taking any chances. 

“Easy, Harry,” said Severus, not that he was concerned about Black, but Harry himself. He was still suffering form that curse; it would take at least another five to six days for him to be back to normal. He didn’t want all his work undone by Harry causing himself to collapse. Although truth be told he had been seconds away from cursing the idiot within an inch of his life. Grasping Harry’s shoulders he led him over to the bed, and sat him down on it. 

Spinning around Severus stalked towards Black, his face murderous, getting straight into the dazed wizards face he spoke so softly, so menacingly that it was hard for anyone other than Sirius to pick up what he was saying. “You need to wake up, Black, you aren’t still in the nineteen eighties, James Potter has been dead and buried for over sixteen years. Harry has never been, nor will he ever be his father. He’s his own man, with his own mind. If you cannot get that through your insipid head, you’ll lose him completely.” 

“Harry is my godson.” said Sirius, “It’s supposed to be me he lives with.” 

“You are not godfather material,” hissed Severus, furiously. “Whenever Harry has needed you most you’ve been nowhere to be found. You fled to the tropics after he was almost kissed by a Dementor. You encouraged him to break school rules to visit you when the Dark Lord was plotting his return, what would you have done if the Death Eaters had succeeded in getting a hold of him? Where were you when the Dark Lord actually came back? Hiding with your tail between your legs, greeting the Order when the most important thing should have been you godson, you sanctimonious fool.” 

Sirius gaped, opening and closing his mouth like an idiot unable to formulate a reply. 

“You know nothing of a boy you claim to be your godson, if you can tell me the answer to three questions I would be frankly astonished that a Dunderhead like you actually saw anything while your head was firmly lodged up your rectum.” continued Severus, “Tell me Harry’s favourite colour? His favourite activity and his favourite time of the year…well? You can’t can you?” stepping back slightly, staring Black down. 

“His favourite colour is maroon, he loves Quidditch and Christmas.” said Sirius, confident in his reply. 

Minerva watched Harry cringing out of the corner of her eye, his face contorting in what could only be pain. She realised there and then that Sirius had obviously gotten every answer wrong. She could say nothing, since she didn’t know the answer to them either, but it wasn’t her place to know everything about Harry. She was his Head of House, but also Head of House to over one hundred students. Sirius only had one person to concentrate on, and that was his godson. 

Severus snorted derisively, not even a single question right out of what should have been the easiest three to be answered. Maroon! When the hell did Black ever see him wearing it unless you counted the Weasley jumpers Molly gave all her children, which were actually mostly always, maroon as well. They’d stopped fitting Harry a long time ago, and Black thought he was right? Especially if his confidence in his voice was anything to go on. “Wrong answers,” he added derisively, “His favourite colours are blue and green, he likes painting and drawing, and last but no means least his favourite time of the year is spring. You need a serious and recent reality check, Black, never once have you been there for him when he needed you most. Then again, if he had come to you, you would have just reported everything back to Dumbledore like a good little puppet.” there was no hiding the consternation in his voice. 

Sirius looked over at Harry, desperate to be told that Snape was wrong; he’d never seen his godson drawing. Yet Harry couldn’t meet his eyes, his heart sank into the pit of his stomach. Sirius continued to lie against the cupboard he’d been thrown against, not sure what to do think or say. He felt as though Snape had crushed him, and in a way he actually had, without even raising a hand, cursing or coming to blows he’d proved a point he obviously wanted to get across. 

“Is Dumbledore awake?” demanded Severus, turning to Poppy, through with Black. The idiot was a waste of space, nothing he said or did got through to the indolent fool. 

“He should be coming around yes,” said Poppy glancing at the clock on the wall. “He might be a bit put out; I’ve given him two sleeping draughts back to back. If you are doing this I want to be there, just in case anything happens.” she demanded of the wizard. 

“Just in case what happens?” enquired Minerva, staring between them confused, realizing she was being kept in the dark about something regarding Dumbledore. 

Severus didn’t grace her with an answer, knowing she probably wouldn’t believe him. He opened the door to the side room, which was only used when there was patience with disease that could be caught. Like wizarding flu, dragon pox and various other illnesses, it didn’t always prevent an outspread, but it helped. Usually people were sick for days before they realized they were ill, and by then it had already spread around by contact. Looking at Dumbledore’s prone form and despite how frail he looked, his anger and disgust returned threefold. 

“Wake up you sanctimonious old fool!” snapped Severus, smothering a smirk as Dumbledore sat up giving a very undignified squeak. 

“Severus,” said Dumbledore, disapproval leaking into his voice. “I assume it was you who did this to me?” anger simmering under the surface of his façade. 

“Indeed,” stated Severus, not even twitching at the flare of magic. 

“You have no idea what you’ve done,” replied Dumbledore, his voice grave. 

“I saved your life you ungrateful sod,” sneered Severus, lip curling in disgust, this wasn’t what he wanted to discuss with the old bastard right now. “You stay away from Harry, or I will have you committed to the long term ward in St. Mungo’s.” 

“How dare you speak to me like that?!” Dumbledore said, unable to believe it. “Just remember you owe me.” 

“I don’t owe you anything, my part is done, my sons part is done, you will leave us alone,” demanded Severus, “As far as I’m concerned you are no better than Voldemort, and if it were up to me I would have left you in the ground to rot. It’s no better than you deserve raising Harry like a pig for the slaughter! Push me old man and I’ll make sure the entire world finds out just what you are really like.” 

“There is a parasitic connection between Harry and Voldemort that must be dealt with…” urged Dumbledore. 

“To know that you used me turns my stomach you disgusting decrepit old man. I spied for you, and lied for you, even put myself in mortal danger for you…all this time you were raising her son to die. Everything I did was for Lily Potter, to keep her son safe, to keep him alive!” hissed Snape sounding demonic now. 

“You don’t understand it’s too late, Voldemort will return, the boy must be kept safe, Voldemort must strike the killing blow.” said Dumbledore, desperately, trying to get out of the bed but he was far too weak for such an attempt. 

“You’re still trying to keep him alive to die at the right moment?” Severus couldn’t believe his ears. 

“He has a part of Voldemort’s soul in him, Severus, he’s a Horcrux!” cried Dumbledore, desperate for Severus to understand. 

“He doesn’t,” snapped Severus, “I removed it over a year ago, and if you hadn’t been so eager to send Harry to die you would have found a way. You only saw the bigger picture, what’s one boy against the entire magical world? All the Horcruxes have been dealt with, the Dark Lord is gone for good.” 

“Not possible,” murmured Dumbledore gawking at Severus wide eyed. 

“You’ll need no further proof than this!” snarled Severus, bearing his teeth as he pushed up his sleeve, showing his bare, unblemished forearm for Dumbledore’s inspection. “Sending a one year old boy to be abused by his Muggle relatives, raising him for the slaughter, testing him, making him confront his parents killer, then listen to their deaths, the tournament, everything you did to motivate him was for nothing you foul loathsome bastard.” he was so furious that he was resorting to words he never used. 

“I want you out of Hogwarts by the end of the night,” said Poppy, looking sick to her stomach as she fully entered the room. 

“This is my school!” croaked Dumbledore, his entire world crashing around him. 

“You are no longer the Headmaster, if you stay, I leave.” she wasn’t going to stick around after what he had done and was willing to do to a student, especially when that said student was Harry. 

“Me too,” said Minerva, face ashen as she entered the room properly, she abruptly leapt for Dumbledore, slapping him everywhere she could. The slaps rung off the walls, as Minerva shrieked incoherently at him. Severus and Poppy were only able to get a few discernable words out of her as she continued her assault. ‘Innocent’ ‘baby’ ‘Worst Muggles’ ‘warned’ ‘you’ and ‘horrid’. The rest was lost under the loud echoing slaps she was landing all over Dumbledore. “Let’s see how you like it! A bitter taste of your own medicine.” she couldn’t believe she’d been worried about the man for days, putting him before her students, his betrayal stung deeply. Severus wasn’t the only one who had cared deeply about Lily; she had too, as well as James. Their deaths had left a gaping hole in her heart, having no kids of her own, the students, or some had become like children to her. She had let the one she really loved the most, in more ways than one, how could she have not seen? 

Despite the shouting Minerva was doing, or the tugging Poppy was giving her Harry’s voice was heard over it all - despite the fact he didn’t once raise his voice. “Stop it, that’s enough.” 

“You truly are your mother’s son,” said Severus, his black eyes twinkling in pride. 

“I think your son needs you more than Dumbledore,” said Poppy, unable to believe the strength this young man had on his shoulders. Despite everything Dumbledore had done, Harry had told Minerva to stop? Were there no bounds to his selfless nature? Even if it was buried underneath some bitterness, which couldn’t be helped - especially after everything that had been done to the poor boy. 

“Son?” croaked Dumbledore, his face and arms cherry red from where Minerva had been slapping at him. “You deceived me?” 

“Still playing the victim Dumbledore?” Severus said wryly, “It’s a pathetic display, and no he is not mine biologically, Lily loved Potter and did until her dying breath.” a few years ago, he wouldn’t have been able to say that out loud, but now, he was healing. He loved Lily yes, and had done everything he had for her, but he was no longer embittered by it. Guiding Harry from the doorway, and just as he stepped out, he turned back and said coldly, “Touch him, approach him, talk to him and this time I’ll make sure there is no coming back. Failing that I will make sure your reputation and good name is forever besmirched, believe me old man, you don’t want to see the lengths I’d go because the truth will be irrefutable, even to your loyal lapdogs in the Order.” 

“Use the Floo in my office,” said Poppy, quickly guiding them to the door right next to the one she exited. 

Severus and Harry had just disappeared in the network, when the door to Dumbledore’s room slammed closed and magic flared up. 

“What’s happening?” asked Poppy, rushing back to main wing. 

“Sirius has just locked us out!” said Minerva worriedly, yanking at the door trying to stop Sirius from doing anything stupid, and ending up back in Azkaban.


	76. Chapter 76

A New Place To Stay 

Chapter 76 

Sirius Black 

Poppy blasted at the door with her magic, trying to bring down whatever wards Sirius had put in place. Whatever it was, it was overriding her commands, preventing her own wards overtaking all else. She couldn’t get into the room no matter what she did; she was imagining all sort of horrific scenarios playing out in the room. All involving a deadly suffering Albus Dumbledore, and one vengeful Sirius Black. When the wizard got angry he loses the plot big, it was as if he had inherited some of the family madness, he wouldn’t like knowing it, but he was very much like his mother in that regard. 

“Listen,” said Minerva, ceasing in her bid to cast spells. 

“I can’t hear anything,” said Poppy, confused. 

“Exactly,” exclaimed Minerva worriedly, “Should we get the Auror’s in?” 

“What Auror’s, Minerva? There are hardly any left!” cried Poppy, before redoubling her efforts to get to Sirius Black before he did something that couldn’t be reversed. 

“Should we get Harry? He might be able to get through to him?” asked Minerva between blasting the door; thankfully the silencing spell around the ward was still holding. It prevented this mess from wakening up the students, and made it a little less public. 

“He’s too sick to put up with Black’s shenanigans!” snapped Poppy, getting extremely irate that someone had made her wards ineffective. Growling lowly in her throat, she slumped against the door, knowing there was just no point to wasting what magic she had trying to open it. Neither she nor Minerva was powerful enough to override the Auror wards Black had put up against the room. 

“He might be able to stop this, now I don’t care about one of them right now, but Black wouldn’t survive another round in Azkaban.” Minerva said bluntly, she didn’t like the thought of using Harry either, especially when he was just barely recovering from a dark curse. “I don’t like this any more than you, but Harry might be the only one he listens to.” 

Poppy reluctantly nodded her head; she was right of course, out of everyone it was Harry who he’d listen to, stop for. “I’ll go.” said Poppy; she would be accepted through the wards, unlike Minerva who wouldn’t. She just hoped so anyway, although the likelihood of being resorted to a Floo call rather than using it to Floo over was a big possibility. 

“Sirius, stop this at once! If you do anything to him…you face Azkaban!” yelled Minerva, sternly using her best teacher voice. Hoping against all hope that he would just listen to her for once in his life. The sound of silence was her answer, breathing heavily she leaned against the door, wondering with dread what the hell was going on behind that door. Was Dumbledore already dead? Or was Sirius just doing what she had? Taking his frustrations out on Dumbledore. Dear Merlin she prayed that it was the second choice, that Sirius hadn’t crossed a line from which there was no escaping back from, and killed someone. “He isn’t worth it!” she added crying out in desperation, her face worn and haggard. She might not have been overly injured during the fight, but she wasn’t her one hundred percent self. And unlike the students she wasn’t getting to rest, with everything going on. To be fair, she’d had a few hours more rest than Poppy, the poor woman was run ragged. 

“Look I want to kill him too, but I’m not doing it!” snapped Minerva, hoping against all odds that he could hear her. “If you care about Harry you won’t do this Sirius! He still wants you to be part of his life; he stopped me from slapping him for Merlin’s sake! Can you imagine how he’d react if you hurt him!” 

“Sirius! Listen to me!” snapped Minerva, a noise catching her attention within the silence bubble, she found Poppy was back and looking just as frazzled as before. “Any luck?” what if Severus had put wards up even preventing Floo calls? They wouldn’t be able to get in touch with Severus or Harry at all. 

“They’re coming through.” said Poppy, self consternation clear on her face, they were adults but needed a seventeen year old boy, who had already been through so much, to get this situation under control. It went against all her healer instincts to ask Harry this; he’d been barely able to stand up for any length of time. When he had been up, he’d held onto something or someone. Knowing Severus, Harry had been like that with even a pain reliever in him. 

“What is he doing in there?” said Minerva, her eyes filled with worry; she was so tired she just wanted to crawl into one of the unused beds in the hospital wing and sleep. 

\-----------0 

Sirius prowled towards Dumbledore, his face a furious mask of anger with the likes he’d never felt before. His entire body was aflame with it, his magic was fluxing out of his control but the mood Sirius was in - he didn’t care. In fact he wanted his magic to hurt Dumbledore, to make him pay for everything he’d done to his godson. He wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t heard it with his own ears from the bloody horses mouth. He’d been stunned by the way Snape forced him to see how little he knew about his godson, only to hear more shit and how Snape defending his godson. Not just that but he’d saved his godson while Dumbledore had been determined to see him go to his death. 

“You…you…wanted to kill my godson?” hissed Sirius, absolutely furious. His hands clenched into fists as he stared at the old wizard, his eyes gleaming in satisfaction at the purple bruises already beginning to form on the elder wizard. He deserved that and a lot more, for everything he’d done to Harry. 

“Now…Sirius, calm down,” said Albus, his arms out trying to calm the wizard, watching him with wary eyes. He didn’t have his wand; in fact he hadn’t seen it since he woke up. He had no idea where it was, perhaps in the…coffin he’d woken up in. either way, he was trapped in a room, defenceless with a rabid Black. He was hurting all over, for a woman Minerva couldn’t half hit hard, his face was swelling up, and he could feel it thumping painfully each second that passed.   
“Calm down?” snarled Sirius, “Calm down? You left my godson to be abused?! You wanted him to die!” he didn’t know what was keeping him from killing the old fool. Perhaps in a bid to hear Dumbledore deny it, to realize he was having some absurd dream that he would wake up from. He could hear Minerva and Poppy, but he didn’t pay attention to their words, not that he could he was lost to the haze of anger clouded him.  
“Harry’s fine, he survived, he’s no longer connected to Voldemort, it worked out well.” said Albus, although not the way he had hoped. However, the evidence was irrefutable, the Dark Mark was gone, he would never return to wreak havoc on the magical world. He was quite frankly terrified that Severus would tell the Ministry what he’d done. Harry was a hero now, he had defeated Voldemort once and for all, the people would clamour for his arrest. He had to get Severus to see what he’d done wasn’t out of maliciousness, but the survival of every witch, wizard and Muggle in Great Britain. He had a feeling it wasn’t Severus he had to worry about, Sirius Black was quite the vengeful character, if he couldn’t contain this situation Black would tell the world. He desperately needed his wand, to do what he didn’t know, but this situation needed contained.   
Sirius didn’t even think he just swung left hand smashing his fist against Dumbledore’s face. His right hand pointed at Dumbledore, glaring at him in so much disgust that Dumbledore flinched again as if he’d just been struck twice. He wasn’t used to such a look being directed at him. It worked out well? He thought in rage, as curse after curse left his wand, hitting the defenceless wizard without pause.   
“Worked out well?” shrieked Sirius, “I should fucking kill you, you mad old bastard! You harmed my godson! It’s a good job Lily isn’t alive or she would bloody kill you!” that couldn’t be denied. James had loved his son, there was little doubt, but Lily…she’d been a hell cat when it came to defending her son. She’d died for him, she had loved him so much, he mourned the fact Harry would never know the kind of woman she had been.   
Albus just cried out as more spells wreaked havoc with his system, as Sirius just continued to curse him between shouting at him. He could hear Minerva and Poppy trying to get in, and he prayed they did, before Black lost it completely and he did end up dead this time for good. Another spell had him staring dumbly at the hair spewing all over the bed, horror contorted his features. Weakly trying to get off the bed, wanting to stop Sirius before he got even more enraged.   
“Stop, I…love Harry too, I didn’t want it…but I couldn’t see any other way.” croaked Albus, shaking in pain as electricity zapped through him. Black’s spells were getting even worse, and he truly feared for what would come his way next.   
“Snape did!” spat Sirius, as much as it turned his stomach he owed Snape his godsons life, and he would always be indebted to him.   
“I should have got help, I realize that now.” said Dumbledore, his hand raised in defeat.   
“NOT GOOD ENOUGH!” Growled Sirius, two more spells were fired from his wand, he didn’t care that Dumbledore was defenceless, he’d left his godson at the Dursleys to be abused. No fucking wonder he had been eager to go and live with him, even after spending who knows how many years thinking he’d betrayed Lily and James. He was an idiot for not realizing something was wrong sooner, why hadn’t Harry said anything? The niggling of his conscious spoke for him, he hadn’t cared, he’d just assumed everything and left Harry alone. The thought crippled him, he had to apologise to him…he’d been so bloody blind, dear Merlin could he ever make it up to him?   
“Sirius?” called Harry, his voice sounding from the other side of the door, getting through to him when Poppy and Minerva’s voices had failed. “Come out now.”   
“You better move, Black, Harry is injured enough and if he has to stay here any longer I’m going to make sure you cannot walk for a month.” hissed Severus, sounding more bitter and disgusted than ever.   
Sirius looked between the door and Dumbledore, before he sighed softly, he’d hurt Harry enough without adding to it. He hadn’t even realized Harry had been hurt, well not bad enough that he was still in pain even now. Flicking his wand he removed the wards from the room, one used by Aurors to prevent anyone from getting in. Usually used after they arrested the head of a family, the manors were inaccessible until someone claimed them, or the heir came of age.   
Poppy and Minerva barged into the room, they took one look at Dumbledore and suddenly had to clasp their hand over their mouth. Finding the entire situation funny all of a sudden, murderer was spelled in black spots across his forehead, glowing neon green every few seconds. His hair had been completely removed, head, eyebrows and beard; it was lying in a pile around the bed. The pain clearly written across his face spoke volumes that it wasn’t just ‘prank’ spells that had been cast on him.   
“Harry,” said Sirius, looking defeated and worn, as he stared at the seventeen year old hero. “Can we talk? Alone I mean.”   
Harry stared at Sirius thoughtfully, before he grudgingly nodded his head, clearly reluctant about it. “Poppy may we use your office?” enquired Harry, speaking properly, and in a fashion Severus usually did.   
“Of course,” sighed Poppy, before staring over at Dumbledore knowing she couldn’t leave him like that.   
Harry and Sirius moved towards Poppy’s office as Dumbledore spoke again, neither paid any attention to him.   
“Where is my wand?” croaked Dumbledore, vowing never to let it out of his sight again, he refused to be defenceless.   
“We do not know, it wasn’t found,” said Poppy, “You will need to purchase a new one.”   
“WHAT?” cried Dumbledore, gaping at Poppy, no not the elder wand; he was supposed to die its last true master. Who had it? He would need to get it back at all cost. “What wand did Voldemort have on him?”   
“How own,” stated Severus, nobody would be using the Elder wand again, it brought nothing but death and destruction. The wand would die, and the Elder wand which was considered a legend, a myth, would become just that. There had been enough death over the past two decades to last them a few lifetimes. The Dark Lord had been right to suspect him, for all the wrong reasons of course. He had taken the wand with him, and it had remained in his possession. He had no desire to use the wand; he had become very disillusioned with power after watching the Dark Lord for years. He had his own power, and he was content with that.   
“No, this isn’t possible,” murmured Dumbledore, his eyes wider than anyone had ever seen, he was acting like he’d lost the most precious thing in his life.   
\------0   
“I’m so sorry, Harry, Snape’s right, I haven’t been a good godfather, and I should have done more.” said Sirius, kneeling down in front of Harry’s knees, staring up at him utterly tormented. He had to make Harry see his apology was genuine, had to make him see he wanted to be a good godfather. “I should have made Dumbledore bring you to Grimmauld Place, I shouldn’t have listened to him…but he…he told me the blood wards were important. Told me about the time Quirrell had tried to hurt you…why didn’t you tell me what the Dursley’s were really like?”   
“You know, when I first went to my dads, no Sirius, don’t, he’s been really good to me,” said Harry, cutting off the words forming on Sirius’ lips. “I was terrified, he seemed to hate me for no good reason, and I wasn’t there long before he realized something was wrong. He made me talk about it…it wasn’t long before I realized it was helping me, I didn’t need to tell him and he saw it. I agreed to move in with you right away…didn’t you find that the least bit suspicious?” staring down at Sirius, he saw the genuine, raw pain in his eyes.   
Sirius looked down unable to meet his eyes anymore, “No,” he admitted. “I’m so sorry I let you down.”   
“You need to see a mind healer, Sirius,” said Harry softly, trying not to anger the wizard. “You can’t just go around taking your moods out on House-Elves just because you don’t like them. You need to get your temper under control, if you hit me even once that would be it, I mean it, I’d never talk to you again.” he had come close just ten minutes ago.   
“I didn’t hit him,” muttered Sirius mulishly, “I only shoved my cloak at him I don’t need help.”   
“You do, you keep expecting me to be exactly like my father, James is gone, you need to come to terms with that and the fact I wont be like him.” said Harry. “Get help, for me, please.”   
“Would it help?” whispered Sirius, “Us I mean, would it help you forgive me?”   
“Yes, yes it would. If you got your anger under control…and your expectations, we can talk.” Harry told him, and he meant it.   
“I just got over excited that’s all,” sighed Sirius, “I just assumed you wanted to be an Auror and got ahead of myself.”   
“No, Sirius, you wanted what you wanted, you didn’t care about everything else,” Harry told him sharply.   
“You’re my godson, I love you,” said Sirius.   
“You’ve said that a dozen times, Sirius, but that means nothing its empty words - when my dad asked you those questions…I expected you to get at least one right…just one right, but you didn’t.” said Harry, grasping Sirius’ arms desperately. “You need to learn to be an adult, to stand on your own two feet, find your own interests, think for yourself, live life and stop following everyone around and doing what you’re told especially by Dumbledore.”   
“What are you going to do?” asked Sirius, quietly.   
“I don’t know,” sighed Harry, he wasn’t sure about coming back to Hogwarts…it was going to be so different if he did. He wasn’t sure if his dad would let him away with not attending Hogwarts for his last year. He had a few days to find out, he could just take his N.E.W.T’s at the Ministry, and he was well ahead of the school curriculum. Harry winced, clutching his chest in agony as pain lanced through him.   
“Harry!” cried Sirius, holding him up worriedly, Merlin he was really hurt. “Are you alright?”   
\---------0   
“Severus, are you remaining as Headmaster?” asked Minerva as Severus existed the side room, obviously having no desire to spend any more time in Dumbledore’s company, like herself. Would he even talk to her after her despicable actions over the past few months? They had to get back to normal, if they didn’t she was going to pass out with sheer exhaustion.   
“I have no desire to remain at Hogwarts,” said Severus bluntly, “However, I know things need settled first before I leave the school, so I will return albeit grudgingly. I trust that you can keep things calm until I return when Harry is well enough?”   
“Of course,” agreed Minerva, “Is Harry attending school as well?”   
“He will be,” said Severus immediately, whether Harry liked it or not he would be returning to Hogwarts and graduating with his classmates. He needed normalcy after all this chaos, it would be good for him whether he realized it or not. He had done right by Harry so far, so hopefully Harry would realize that this too was for his own good. Hopefully his son wouldn’t put up too much a fight, although he might have to consider the fact Harry truly didn’t want to return. He would speak to him about it soon; see what kind of careers he might like, and what he wanted to do with himself. Not that it mattered, Harry couldn’t change his classes not now with N.E.W.T’s so close on the horizon. If it came to it he would need to pay to take extra lessons and exams if he found something he was passionate about. Although he had a good idea what Harry would end up doing. Painting or perhaps work in the creature industry, he had been writing a book as well, so perhaps that too would be published. There was nothing to say that Harry had to do just one thing, just because he loved potions and had a Potions Mastery it didn’t mean he wasn’t passionate about other things, such as defence and keeping up to date on both subjects. Which had expanded Prince Library quite a lot over the past ten years. 

“Does he even want to come back?” asked Minerva, quietly. 

“After the distain he’s had to put up with from his fellow classmates I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t. Unfortunately a lot of people don’t like school but it is important.” Severus replied sternly. 

“I’m sorry, Severus, I just…everyone was saying you had done it, no matter what he’d done in the past…regarding Harry. Dumbledore was keeping us safe from HIM and I thought you had been a Death Eater all along.” said Minerva, desperate for Severus to understand. She wanted absolution for her thoughts and actions and prayed she got it. He had played his part to perfection; it had been the worst few months of her life. 

“I knew when I did it, it would be a rough journey, but the way you automatically took the word of a vicious Death Eater I knew that you just didn’t give a shit.” replied Severus. 

Minerva gasped at his crude language, he seemed to be doing a lot of that today, never in all her years had she heard Severus utter words like that. He was usually more…creative when he was insulting, it’s as if he couldn’t muster up his normal sarcastic sardonic ways. How did she make it up to him? What could she do or say to show just how sorry she was? A gift could go a long way, but Severus didn’t like much, perhaps a very rare bottle of wine could serve as a peace offering? Gringotts was the best place for that; they had the best wines and whiskeys on offer. Maybe he would see how apologetic she was when she gave him something he would genuinely enjoy, and show him she did know him better than he thought she did. Minerva was truly at a loss of anything else she could do, she had been such a fool. 

“Old fool,” muttered Poppy shaking he head irritated as she shut the door behind her. She was sticking to her guns, she didn’t want him in the hospital wing, and since he wasn’t a member of the faculty he would not be able to stay in Hogwarts no matter who he was. With everything that happened he was more concerned about his damn hair and wand, she couldn’t deal with him, she just couldn’t - especially after everything she’d learned. 

Sirius’ shout of concern had Severus dashing into the office, not caring about giving Black or Harry privacy any longer. 

“Move,” said Severus, and surprisingly Black didn’t need told twice, he got up and moved aside, looking at the other side of the room, never meeting his eyes. He couldn’t help but wonder what Harry had been saying to him, whatever it was, he’d calmed down considerably, in fact he looked depressed yet hopeful. 

“How bad is the pain?” asked Severus, he was the one kneeling beside Harry, Poppy was at his side, casting a diagnostic on him. Minerva he didn’t notice was standing at the door entrance, eyes clouded with worry. 

“Painful,” admitted Harry, gritting his teeth, he felt as though someone was punching each and every single one of his vital organs. 

“You cannot get another pain reliever for five hours,” said Severus, “I think it best if you take a sleeping potion.” 

Harry grunted but nodded his head in agreement, anything was better than this pain. He guessed spending time with Luna and Neville was out of the question until later tonight. He was still surprised his dad had let them come, it showed he care, and to be quite honestly, Harry loved it. 

“Maybe a fever reducer as well, Severus, he is a little bit on the hot side,” said Poppy, after reading the results. 

Severus nodded as he helped Harry to his feet; it was time for them to go back to Prince Manor. They would be back at Hogwarts in a week’s time, until then he was sure the other teachers could manage everything. Although perhaps he should get Dobby to get some of the paperwork lying in his office, and do it before it piled up dangerously high. He meant it, he wouldn't be remaining at Hogwarts after this school year was over, it was time he was selfish and did something he wanted to for a change. He couldn't Harry that having a job you barely liked wasn't living, it was existing, and continue doing it himself.


	77. Chapter 77

A New Place To Stay 

Chapter 77

Returning To Hogwarts 

Harry sat in the Great Hall, surrounded by his classmates, feeling a sense of peace and serenity at the normalcy of the action. He had been doing it for seven years after all, so what was more normal than sitting on your backside on a bench beside the rest of the students at Hogwarts, well the Gryffindors at least, he mused staring around at them. They weren’t brash and loud like pervious years, they were solemn, quiet but strong…just like him. It eased Harry seeing that he wasn’t the only one affected for a change, for so many years it had just been him and to them Voldemort had been a monster of the past. A monster he had supposedly destroyed as a child, only for their peace to be shattered. Only for two and half years, not even that actually, the end of fourth year he’d come back, when he had told everyone they had called him a liar. Only when the truth had been irrefutable had they began to accept it at the end of his fifth year, when he sprung a trap to make sure of it. Could he blame them for it? Yes, but did he want to? No. He just wanted to move on, stop the bitterness he felt, the anger and what better way than this? It didn’t mean they were going to be friends, far from it, but he wanted to move on from old hates. His dad was right, he couldn’t let hate cloud him, it would take away his life leaving him with nothing but cold suspicion and everyone hating him. His dad was right about a lot of things, he had needed to come back here, lay old feelings and ghosts to rest, no pun intended he thought as Nearly-Headless-Nick floated on by. 

“Harry, you alright?” asked Neville, who was situated at Harry’s right, staring at his friend with his big brown eyes full of concern. “Are you thinking about everything that’s happened?” 

Harry turned to stare at Neville, when he first became friends with him, he’d been innocent still in many ways, despite the fact he’d lost his parents at a young age and put up with a grandmother and uncle who were…abusive in their own ways. Not like him, thankfully, but he had been abused in a different way, perhaps even more emotionally damaging than his. Those eyes weren’t filled with innocence anymore, and Harry wondered when that had faded from Neville. Had he put too much on his shoulders telling both he and Luna about the Horcruxes? No, they were both strong they could handle it, especially now that it was over and done with. “Yeah, I am.” he admitted after Neville’s thoughts penetrated is mind. 

“Me too,” confessed Neville. “I never really left Hogwarts, but I must admit its strange being back…its weird isn’t it?” 

“No, you keep expecting the school to change, when it doest you find it odd…the truth is we’ve changed, Nev. We are the ones who’ve became different, grown up? Who knows.” replied Harry, thoughtfully. 

“I hadn’t thought of it like that,” Neville whispered, looking around the hall, the sea of faces, had he really changed that much that being back at school he felt different? An image of Lestranges face flashed before him, yes, he had changed he realized with grave certainty, a few months ago he wouldn’t have stuck the killing blow that ended Lestrange, the Carrows had changed them all. He could see it in everyone around him, being cursed or being forced to watch friends and classmates cursed had done it to them all. “It’s going to be a slow year isn’t it?” 

Harry snorted in amusement, “Yeah, probably, and for the first time I’ve got nothing but school work to worry about.” 

Neville laughed, “Good point.” looking over at the Ravenclaw table, finding Luna sitting there and she was looking at him giving him the brightest smile. His light at the end of a long tunnel he’d just crawled out of, and he’d done it with her, and she had survived too - yes, it looked as though Harry was right - nothing but homework and school work to think about. 

“When am I ever wrong?” teased Harry, bunching shoulders with Neville grinning widely, so wide that he almost felt as if his jaw was about to pop. This was good, he felt good, he was going to enjoy this year before he graduated from Hogwarts. 

“A few times,” said Neville giving a small laugh at the face Harry pulled. He’d heard the conversation between Harry and Headmaster Snape three days ago. It had started off with a talk about what Harry wanted to do for a career, when Harry said he didn’t know, Snape had suggested he go back to Hogwarts for the remainder and graduate. Harry had been vehemently against it, but he’d soon been talked into it, if he could say nothing else about Snape - what couldn’t be denied was his power of persuasion. He’d felt bad listening in, but it was all the proof he needed that the Headmaster was good for his best friend. By then Luna had found him, grabbed him then soundly scolded him for being rude and eavesdropping while he was a guest. Which had made him feel two feet tall, and guilty, he knew Harry would go nuts if he found out - so he’d told Harry, who thankfully hadn’t minded - too much. 

“Har-har-har,” muttered Harry, good naturally. 

“Have you heard that Hermione’s getting out of the Hospital wing today?” said Neville, changing the subject. 

“Is she?” stated Harry, not really interested. 

“She’s still in pretty bad shape, but she was determined to be back at classes tomorrow.” Ron said, joining their conversation. “Nothing new there right?” 

“Nothing new, same old Hermione.” said Harry, bitterly. Her priorities had always been to school work, teachers and adults. 

“She’s going to be in for one hell of a shock when she realizes her grades aren’t going to get her where she wants alone.” said Neville, “Her attitude will put a lot of people off from employing her. The sad thing is she thinks she will get a job right out of Hogwarts, in an ideal position because she’s smart. Everyone has to work their way up, hell the even the Ministers go through a lot of shit before they see the inside of the Ministers office never mind step foot inside it as a high-up official.” 

“I don’t think she expects that, she’s smart enough to know better.” said Harry, surprised to find himself defending her. 

“No, she isn’t, Harry. Book smart, yeah, but not street smart.” said Ron, quietly, surprised that they were talking. 

“True,” agreed Neville, wondering when the food would be sent up. 

“I suppose so,” mused Harry. 

“When’s dinner starting? It’s usually started by this?” questioned Neville, staring down at his watch. 

“You don’t know?” asked Harry surprised. 

“What?” Neville wondered what he had missed. 

“Dad’s getting all the first year Muggle-born’s to the school, as well as the other students who fled and hid.” replied Harry, “He’s away with the Head of Houses they’re getting everyone they can.” 

“Will they be crossing in the boats?” asked Ron. 

“I have no idea, I doubt it though, and it will take too much time.” Harry told them. 

“That explains why there are hardly any teachers at the Head table,” muttered Neville, it had been on his mind. He had been more concerned about other things. His mind had been all over the place tonight, how odd it was being back, how quiet it was, how empty it looked compared to normal. It was oddly disconcerting, Hogwarts had always been packed, but the spaces…would never fill a lot of good people had died. 

“Do you think they will want to come to Hogwarts?” Ron wondered out loud. 

“Headmaster Snape could convince a Dragon it was a harmless puppy, of course they will.” chortled Neville, watching Harry go red in the face at the statement. “OUCH!” cried Neville, rubbing his arm where Harry had punched him. “Harry!” he whined shaking his head. 

Ron sniggered, a bittersweet look in his eyes, he missed being like that with Harry himself. Things were coming along though weren’t they? Harry was talking to him after all, and it was more than they had done since he fucked up, more than once. He was positive they could be acquaintances, maybe even friends again one day. 

“Is Zar with you?” asked Neville, out of the blue. 

Harry shook his head, “He’s staying at Prince Manor, and it’s not really fair to keep him cooped up.” 

“Haven’t you been questioned by the Ministry for having him?” which he already knew the answer to. 

“Why would they want to talk to me?” Harry asked baffled. 

“Harry…Basilisks are illegal,” said Neville, speaking really low. 

“Why do you think everyone thinks it was you? Those that saw what happened saw the snake defending you, but the Ministry wouldn’t approve.” whispered Ron, leaning over. “I’m bloody terrified but I know you wouldn’t let it hurt anyone. The teachers, Sirius, Remus they’re all keeping it to themselves.” 

“What they’re…like really rare why would they be illegal?” Harry asked baffled. He was getting hungry now; they should have had the dinner brought up. He could hear the others talking about it as well, in the background like an annoying buzz. 

“They’re considered six times X in the dangerous category register in the Ministry. Which is the common term for Wizard-killer and that they cannot be domesticated due to its immense powers.” said Neville. 

“What powers? The ability to kill?” asked Harry, he’d never considered it a power before. 

“Basically, yeah. But there’s a stipulation that a Parselmouth may place one under his or her control but…with everything that happened you know in your second year…it’s best to keep it quiet.” said Neville. 

“They know about that? I thought it was kept under wraps!” cried Harry in surprise, people knew about what he did? 

“The public yes, but the high up ministry officials probably know,” said Neville. “People were being petrified, the school almost closed, there was an investigation.” Neville gave Harry an odd look, he was acting as though this was news to him - it obviously was. 

“Back the law, it does say a Parselmouth can own one right? In black and white.” demanded Harry; note to self, study the law better. 

“Yes,” said Neville firmly, his grandmother had made sure he understood the law before he entered Hogwarts. She had followed the old ways when bringing him up. 

“Good.” said Harry, one more thing to be thankfully for, that his ability hadn’t disappeared. 

“I thought there was only one down there…how did the…you know, appear?” asked Ron, grinning as he remembered Harry doodling in his Fantastic beast and where to find them ‘that’s what you think’ he wrote, when it was stated that a Basilisk hadn’t been seen in four hundred years. 

“They don’t mate, Basilisks can lay eggs no matter their gender, and didn’t you read about it? Hepo the foul wrote about it.” commented Neville, as a racket at the doors caused him to look around. 

“That’s not all he wrote about,” muttered Harry, thinking about the Horcruxes as he too looked at the door. 

“Oh, please tell me we don’t have to wait on them being sorted!” groaned Ron, staring at the amount of students standing at the doors. 

Harry actually agreed with him there. 

“Look they’re being sorted as they come in,” said Neville, looking over to where Professor McGonagall stood with the hat. 

“Might not have to wait long after all,” said Ron, hopeful. Watching as the eleven year olds scampered in, gazing around in awe as they went to their directed seat. It wasn’t a traditional sorting, but considering everything that had happened…it had been for the best. At least they didn’t have a tarnished view of Hogwarts, had no idea what had gone on inside her hallowed halls. He shuddered at the thought of what the Carrows would have put them through; he didn’t even want to think about it. His gaze found Harry and he had a similar look in his eyes, telling him that Harry was thinking the exact same thing as him. 

“Look they’ve found a lot of the students,” said Neville, gesturing towards the sudden influx once the first years had been sorted. He wondered what the teachers had said to them, and what they were thinking about getting sorted at the door. Although it probably made them less nervous than seeing everyone before it happened. Thinking of his own sorting, leaving the bloody hat on of all things, shaking his thoughts of he gazed back at the faces tumbling in looking relieved to be back. Second years to seventh year Muggle-Borns who had no choice but to flee or die when Voldemort took over. 

“Who do you think prevented them from coming back? He knew where they were.” said Harry. 

“He saved a lot of lives didn’t he?” said Ron, after all the shit he’d been called by all of them, he had saved them all, in a way he was better than Dumbledore. No was, since Dumbledore’s dirty laundry had been spread across the Daily Prophet for days, he was a pariah, just yesterday it had been in the news about even Albus Dumbledore’s brother, Aberforth refusing to take him in and the quarrel that ensued something about Ariana had come up and how he was responsible for her death. He knew the newspaper tomorrow were going to be an interesting read, the journalists will have dug into what the brother said with relish. He was hated, people were refusing to serve him, not that he had money, it had all gone to his brother upon his death, either that or his burial he wasn’t sure. All his items had been donated to St. Mungo’s, Hogwarts library or people close to him. He literally had nothing, bar his identity which had went from diseased to alive after months. 

“Yes, at near personal cost,” stated Harry grimly, remembering the events of the Shack. The teachers he realized were making their way to the Head table, everyone was in, but there were still holes where people usually sat. The students being respectful enough to leave the gap, remembering what they’d lost. Each and every single student who had fought that day had received an Order of Merlin, second class, for preventing the greater loss of life. He had been awarded first class, but he hadn’t been able to join the ceremony, not that he wanted to, so it had been sent via owl. It had been stowed away in his trunk, he didn’t care for medals, and it wasn’t why he did it. 

“Welcome, Wizards and Witches to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, during this year…you will find a lot of changes underway at Hogwarts. Which I am sure each and every one of you will accept I’m sure, with ease, after all that has gone on these past months. I will keep this speech short since I know many of you are no doubt extremely hungry. I just ask that you all remember that we fought this darkness together, Slytherin, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Gryffindor, just like the sorting hat said - we branded together and rose from the ashes undefeated. With personal cost, to all of us, I ask you now, to raise your goblet in one minute silence to remember those who passed on.” said Severus smoothly. Just as he said it, the goblets appeared filled with juice, for them all. 

“Not just for those who died during this war, but the last.” added Severus and he tipped his goblet upwards, the students and teachers followed solemnly. 

“To my brother, Colin Creevy!” said Dennis his voice trembling and choked but he did it as he stood. 

“To my best friend, Patricia Stimpson!” said another brave soul standing up. 

“To my Aunt Amelia Bones,” said Susan, joining in. 

The chorus of names continued, Alastor Moody, John Dawlish, Eleanor Branstone, Megan Jones, and Jack Proudfoot. The list was endless, but what came obvious was the fact they had all lost someone close to them. Whether it was a parent, a family member, close or otherwise, or friends. In what was supposed to be a minute of silent had somehow turned into an outlet for their grief in a very small way. The silence afterwards lasted longer than just a minute, as they reflected in the life that had been lost, stolen and otherwise taken from them in such a despicable manner for one mans obsession with taking over the world. 

“Know now that they will never be forgotten, but now, let’s eat and get some sleep since school will be resuming tomorrow morning. Which is when the new timetables will be sorted out, so don’t leave the hall until you have your copy.” stated Severus, before sitting down. The students followed his lead and not even two seconds later, the food appeared and everyone immediately dug in. 

“You did get the timetables sorted didn’t you?” asked Severus, speaking to his as of now Deputy Headmistress, once the year was out she’d take over from him. Plating food, as he did so, his gaze going to Harry to make sure he was eating out of habit. 

“Yes, everything is in hand,” said Minerva, she’d had an entire week to sort it, all she needed to do was put the names on the first year timetables and she would do that as soon as she got to her office. 

“Good,” said Severus. 

“Are you publishing a book, Severus?” asked Filius. 

“I ordered one to be published yes, but it is not my work.” replied Severus, Filius had been with him in Diagon Alley when he had gone to ensure Harry’s book was printed. Two hundred books to start with, if they sold well, then Harry himself could get the next batch printed on his own. He hadn’t told Harry, he was still a little self confident about it, but Severus knew the real value of the book. It would sell well, and Harry really wanted to publish it. He was only giving him a little kick along the way. 

“Publish? What is being published?” asked Minerva catching their conversation. 

“A book.” replied Severus bluntly; he wasn’t in the mood to speak. He’s spent the last three hours tracking down children, putting up with their incessant questions and squealing. He’d immediately regretted coming back, but he knew he had to see this through, if for no other reason than to make sure Harry was fine.


	78. Chapter 78

A New Place To Stay 

Chapter 78 

Graduation 

 

"Are you sure you won't stay for a few more years, Severus?" asked Filius, observing the Headmaster with unconcealed pride. When Severus had spoken of changes being made, he hadn't really believed it. He wasn't sure how many times Dumbledore had insisted the same thing to keep them teaching at Hogwarts. He had been wrong, very wrong in that regard.

The changes that had been made to Hogwarts were amazing, he'd been jumping up and down in excitement all year. A proper charms club had been set up, with the newest books and things and you were openly encouraged to attend, it wasn't just his Ravenclaws that come to his classroom to learn extracurricular classes anymore but the hall was transformed into a safe place to duel. There was a duelling club as well, a permanent one, not just one that Dumbledore had decided to allow for a few months. Severus had employed three teachers and brought back a few classes. Wandless magic, Alchemy and Dark Arts, many hadn't been sure about it but the speech Severus had given and convinced them all. Other schools taught it, made sure the students understood how dangerous it was in a safe environment and kept an eye on students that were drawn to them. It was true, it was better than them leaving Hogwarts and ending up immersed in a magic they couldn't fight the thrall for. Even the librarian Madam Pince had been in an unusually good mood with the sudden influx of books she'd been trying to get back (due to Dumbledore's insistence it wasn't good reading materials for the students) or put on the shelves of Hogwarts library. There was only one book Severus hadn't replaced, and they weren't sure what he had said to Irma Pince but whatever it was - she had never mentioned that particular book again.

"As amusing as that would be, I don't think so." said Severus, smirking in amusement. He was quite content to step down after Graduation was over and allow Minerva to step up. He had accomplished everything he wanted to at Hogwarts this year. Hogwarts could quite proudly say it was one of the best schools again, without it being a lie, also quite safe as well, since he had ensured the wards were full proof.

"I never thought I'd say this, but I think the students will actually miss you, Severus." said Filius, he'd been a very harsh taskmaster and teacher while he taught Potions. Most of the students had liked him while he taught Defence Against the Dark Arts, but as a Headmaster he had done many things that the students had been excited about. Maybe it was because they realized what he'd done for all of them, kept them safe and out of harms way. Either way he knew they would actually miss him when he stepped down.

Severus laughed in amusement, nodding his head, that statement was true to both of them. He'd never thought the students would care either. He knew he didn't have a social personality, and he didn't mind, he had been through too much to ever be a sociable person. He missed brewing if he was honest with himself, as Headmaster, without classes to teach, he has assumed he would have a great deal of free time to brew - he had been glaringly wrong. He wanted to get back to his roots instead of looking after a school and students for a change.

"It's time to head down," said Filius, glancing at his watch, realizing the time. It was graduation day, and the Quidditch pitch had been transformed into a stadium of sorts for the graduating students, friends and of course family. Students that should have been graduating but had died during the war were posthumously getting their graduation certificate. Of course a family member would be accepting it for them, if they didn't have family it was being recorded but obviously not picked up and not placed on the list.

"Yes, let's rescue Minerva and the others," conceded Severus, wryly. The parents were currently in the Great Hall, having a drink and bite to eat before the ceremony. Something the House-Elves loved to no end, since they got to make a lot more than they usually did. The teachers kept the Pureblood's (especially those that didn't care for non-magical people) away from the clueless Muggles. Also had to keep them from being picked on with a prank or two. To be honest, most Muggles didn't trust magical transportation, many never showed up for their child's graduation. They had to keep a hold of the letter, since the magic imbued into it allowed them to see Hogwarts. Without it they would see nothing but a derelict building that had been long since condemned. It was exactly like the entrance to The Leaky Cauldron, if you were touching someone magical you would see it yourself. It was as if magic channelled through the Muggle unveiling the truth behind the charm.

"Indeed," agreed Filius, getting himself out of the seat and walking side by side with the Headmaster. Everyone had rallied together this past year, and he was very proud to have been and still be a part of it. There had been a few rocky moments in the beginning when the first years found out what had been happening at Hogwarts from the second and third years. Sleepless nights and the cries of 'I want to go home' but between the Heads of Houses they had explained everything to the terrified eleven year olds and they slowly bloomed.

The trip to the Great Hall was silent, but as they approached they could hear the incessant chatting of the parents and students. The students graduating were currently getting their graduation robes on in their common rooms, and should be coming down very soon. The robes had been updated, while they were still the colours of their houses, it had the Hogwarts motif on it instead of just for instance Slytherin or Ravenclaw badge on it.

Severus flicked out his wand, letting off two loud bangs, before the noise had stopped the wand was safely back within its holster. He stared around at the startled people, a small smirk placing across his face. "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming, if you could, follow us, the ceremony will be starting shortly. For those without magic, keep a hold of the letter, it allows you to see Hogwarts in all her glory." he told them, despite the fact they'd already been told a dozen times presumably.

The only teacher not up on the platform was Professor Trelawney, who Severus had reluctantly allowed to stay. He had never put much stock in seers, but after everything she'd predicted…she was obviously genuine. So that was her only saving grace, ironically enough it was the only reason Dumbledore had allowed her to get the post of Divination professor in the first place. He was slightly glad she didn't want to come, quite frankly she was an odd witch and if they saw her…well they'd be wondering what kind of school their children went to. The new History of Magic teacher Professor Carter, who had taken over from Binn's was the last to sit down. Binn's hadn't 'moved on' he had just become like all other ghosts within Hogwarts - just that a ghost. Not a teacher, Severus had taken a bit too much delight in firing him, but the students weren't learning anything from him. He remembered his own classes, it was like a free pass just to sleep, and it was little wonder the grades of History of magic had been very low to begin with - it had been given a new breath of life and ironically enough the grades were higher than anyone had seen them in a very long time. That was only one year, hopefully in a few years it would be better than ever, it would take four years at least for results to show on the O.W.L's and another additional year for N.E.W.T's.

The graduating students quickly made an appearance, lining up in no particular order, their green, blue, red and yellow robes making a series of nauseating colours - at least to Severus at any rate. The parents and friends were all sitting down in the chairs the House-Elves had brought out to the Quidditch pitch for them. It was mostly filled, which did surprise him he hadn't expected such a turnout - there never usually was. Then again there was ten reporters at least, in the back row. He knew it was because of who was graduating and it pissed him off, but there was nothing he could do about it - unless of course they annoyed his son then he would remove them from the school grounds.

Standing up, Severus made his way over to the podium and began speaking, his voice amplified so everyone could hear him. "Welcome to nineteen-ninety seven's graduation class, you all know that it is been a tough ride to get here, but you got here and that shows a great deal of resilience - something I'm sure your future employer will take into consideration. One by one you will come up and receive your graduation papers, well done, I am proud of you all." he told them, staring at his son in particular as he finished that sentence.

"I would like you to raise your hands in welcoming this years Valedictorian, Harry Potter-Snape." replied Severus, stepping down and allowing Harry to give the speech. He had considered giving the honour to Hermione Granger, very seriously considered it but he didn't want to be standing here until night fall. Which it mostly certainly would be the case, Granger always went overboard, her homework was always double what you asked for. Her superior attitude would grate on everyone's nerves.

"Good evening, friends, family and professors, when I was asked to give the speech, I tried really hard to think of something funny to say about Hogwarts on a whole. Unfortunately there weren't many good memories to be had, except all the wonderful people I've gotten to meet, my classmates and my father in particular, who have helped me in more ways than one. I have learned over the past seven years that we can and will push the boundaries and have made the world a better place. Always remember who you are, where we are going and what we dream about. We have been given a second chance, don't waste it on empty dreams." said Harry, looking around.

"We learned quickly that life is full of hardships, dull moments, excitement and most importantly the importance of those around us. My challenge to you all is to see life as an adventure, as one big opportunity. Some of you may not be rich, popular, famous or powerful but you are important, someone worthwhile. Only you have the ability to become what you want to be, to make change, save lives, live your life to the fullest. If not for yourself but for everyone else to didn't get the opportunity to be here today or see someone they loved graduate." Harry looked at Neville before turning back.

"We did it guys, congratulations graduates!" shouted Harry, finishing his speech. Letting out a breath at the loud clapping and cheering, he'd wondered if it was too depressing but obviously not.

"Hannah Abbott!" called Severus, as the confident seventeen year old walked forward to accept her certificate, shaking his hand as she did so turning to face her parents and smiling as the cameras flashed. Everyone cheered and clapped politely before she moved to the other side.

"Lavender Brown," called Severus, as the process was repeated. Terry Boot, Mandy Brocklehurst, Millicent Bullstrode, Susan Bones, Michael Corner (honorary his mother accepting it for him) Vincent Crabbe, Morag MacDougal, Seamus Finnegan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Hermione Granger, Anthony Goldstein, Gregory Goyle, Neville Longbottom.

"Luna Lovegood," called Severus, the girl had approached him and asked if she could take her N.E.W.T's with the rest of the seventh years at the end of the year. Stating that she would study with the boys, and learn what she needed. She had not wanted to remain behind for an additional year when she was confident that she could graduate. Severus had given her permission, but she remained in the sixth year classes, and did the exams. He would soon see how she had done.

Before long Blaise Zabini had accepted his certificate and the line was finally over - graduation was almost done with. All that was left was the boat ride over the school, in a touch of nostalgia and irony. They entered Hogwarts for the first time as a student using the boats and their last time also using the boat. Then they would depart on the train one last time.

"Students, make your way back into the school," stated Severus, giving them all a pointed look. He then stared at the parents, not paying any attention to the students returning to the school. "The graduates will join you shortly, please follow Minerva McGonagall and Hagrid to the coaches and meet with them in Hogsmeade and depart on the train." Hagrid was an unmistakable figure, he would ensure they did not get lost.

 

"How did four of us fit into those things again?" asked Harry wryly, staring at the boats a smile twitching his lips as he remembered how innocent he had been when he was first in there. "Should we waterproof you Nev?"

"Don't worry the giant squid will protect you," teased Ron, grinning from ear to ear.

"Shut up!" said Neville flushing red in embarrassment. "I wasn't the one that fell in."

"Don't listen to them," said Luna patting at her boyfriend also grinning from ear to ear.

"No but you just about did," laughed Harry, only Dennis Creevy actually fell in during his time at Hogwarts.

"I'm going to miss being here," admitted Susan, wistfully. "Nothing's going to be the same."

"Maybe not but its not the end of your life, this is the beginning." said Harry, understanding what she meant in a small way - but most of him was just glad to be leaving if he was honest.

"That's right," said Hermione, she hadn't expected to be going home to the Muggle world though. She had assumed she would be able to stay at Ron's until she got a job. Instead she was going to have to travel between both worlds, her parents didn't want her staying at The Leaky Cauldron so they weren't giving her money to do that. They still hadn't forgiven her for Obliviating them, in fact they were still furious with her. In their Obliviated state they'd spent a great deal of their money, so they weren't able to buy back their dental practice. They were renting a property while they tried to rebuild their lives in the UK. Ron unfortunately didn't want her there, he'd been very distant with her this past year, even more than usual and it wasn't his normal angry jealous distance just general dismissive behaviour. She had applications for three different positions she was interested in from the Ministry, she would fill them in and send them off - hopefully she would get interview days back really soon. If she didn't her parents would get on her back about getting a job and she didn't want that.

"Two to a boat!" called Filius, watching them all clamber in.

Harry ended up in a boat with Ron just like the first time, Neville went with Luna. "Seemed a lot faster last time didn't it?" Harry yelled back.

"Definitely!" shouted Neville in merriment. Of course Harry would think it was slow though, he'd been playing Quidditch for years on the Gryffindor team - until fifth year. He still hadn't played this year, but he did ride his broom for half an hour before running laps around the pitch, a lot of students had taken to watching him.

"Longer too," said Harry, slightly disappointed when the boat slowed down.

Ron sniggered in amusement. "Are you riding on the train, Harry or is S…your dad Apparating you back?"

"He has to stay at school until tomorrow," explained Harry, he was heading straight back to Prince Manor and finally getting to see Zar again - he couldn't wait. 

"Well at least we won't have trouble getting seats," mused Neville, they took the train home alone tonight, the rest of the students left Hogwarts tomorrow morning when the train returned. There wouldn't be any parents in their apartment, well maybe Molly and Arthur if Ron shared with them.

Speaking of the devils…

"Congratulations!" said Molly bringing both Harry and Ron into a great big hug despite the fact both boys towered over her. "I'm so proud of you both!"

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry giving her a small smile.

"Oh, your parents would have been so proud of you, and you Neville," said Molly, giving them fond smiles. "They were so proud of you both when you were born, do you know I held you in my arms when you were just days old?" that was during a more peaceful time before the children had become prime targets for Voldemort.

Harry and Neville shook their heads in silent surprise.

"Oh yes, Lily and Alice brought you to meet us all," said Arthur, smiling slightly pained. Molly loved all children despite the fact she'd already had six children of her own. She'd cooed over them as if they were the most beautiful children she'd ever seen. 

The hooting of the train captured their attention and before long adults and newly graduated seventeen-year-olds were piling onto the red train in anticipation of returning to Kings Cross Station. 

\------0

Yup this story is over I think the epilogue is next...so will we know the identity to Harry's significant other? or will it be left deliberately so you can decide for yourself? or will there be no mention of one and harry being asexual? hope that's spelt properly! anyway R&R please! is there anything else you'd like to know about the story before it's wrapped up?


	79. Chapter 79

A New Place To Stay 

Chapter 79 

Epilogue 

Harry jerked awake at the sound of a child’s cry, blinking sleepily he grumbled to himself as he slid out of bed. The cries of his daughter had woken him up, as they did every night, shivering slightly as he got to the door he looked back at his warm bed and sighed wistfully. Muffling another yawn as he walked quickly down the hall, he didn’t have to worry about her wakening her brother at least since the silencing spells prevented it. The door to his daughter’s room was open, Harry peered inside, a huge smile spread across his face it didn’t matter how many times he saw them together it just made his day or night as it was right now.

“Go back to sleep,” said Severus, knowing Harry was there by the small creak of the floorboards. Despite the fact he hadn’t been a spy in over ten years there was just some instincts that would remain. He didn’t mind too much, he would rather always be aware of his surroundings. 

Harry didn’t listen; instead he entered his daughter’s room, suppressing another yawn. He took a seat beside the window in the niche he always used. His wife and his dad used the chair, but to him it was too uncomfortable. He missed her something crazy and wished she was here, ironically enough she’d only been gone a few days. Her dad was sick, very sick actually they didn’t think he would be around much longer. So the immediate family had gone to see him, Serena didn’t want the kids to be around that, especially Caspian, his six year old son it wasn’t something he should see. So she’d chosen to go alone, not wishing to inconvenience Severus for however long they could potentially end up away. 

Caspian Severus Potter-Snape, named after both his grandfathers, he looked like neither of them though, and in fact he was convinced he looked like his mother. Same blonde hair, same dimples, although Caspian had his green eyes. Talia though had red hair, like Lily, his mum, and the green eyes, he’d thought it might be too difficult for his dad to see but his worries had been for nothing. 

“How is he?” Severus asked, as he continued to feed Talia, her first little cry had woken him up before Harry realized what was happening. Harry was a deeper sleeper than him, so it didn’t really surprise Severus. 

“Bad,” sighed Harry, “I hate the thought of her going through this alone.” 

“There are just some things people prefer to do alone, Harry, when she needs you, she’ll let you know.” Severus told him solemnly. Serena was strong, one of the strongest women he knew, and he’d approved of her. Harry had met her on holiday; they’d been drawn to each other right away. After the holiday they’d continued to write to each other eventually she had visited him and ended up staying. Five times a year they had gone to visit her parents…up until now. She hadn’t known who he was, that’s what had drawn Harry to her, even when she learned she hadn’t realized the extent of it until she moved into Prince Manor. 

Harry nodded, knowing he was right, but it didn’t stop his worry or sadness for her. He hadn’t had a dad as half as long as she had, and he definitely couldn’t imagine life without him. He didn't even want to think on it, if he was honest, for he knew without a shadow of a doubt with his dad he would never have survived the war. His dad had often said the same thing to him, but Harry didn’t believe that.   
“What time did you get down to sleep this time?” asked Severus, as he moved Talia and began to pat her tiny back. Merlin he could remember when Caspian had just been born. He hadn’t wanted to touch him for fear of hurting him. He’d never been around anything so small in his life. Harry had been determined, but what had caught him and left him speechless as the child had been placed into his arms was his name and what he’d been called. He’d given the child his name; middle names in the magical world were always for the father’s name. Added to the fact the child was officially Potter-Snape. It looked as though despite the fact he had no blood children his name would continue. He hadn’t cared much for the name as a teenager, yet as an adult, with a Mastery under his belt and everyone knowing him. Nothing had prepared him for being a grandfather - being called granddad. 

“Quite early, I finished it quicker than I thought I would.” Harry told him wryly. He’d been unable to choose a single career, instead he did different things. Drawings and paintings of landscapes and portraits, magical portraits of people and in their chosen settings. Then there was the books he wrote, not only on Basilisks, so far he’d written two. One on how to care for them as an egg and then once hatched, and everything he realized about them. Then there was the second one about how big they got, how their personalities changed just as adults did, and how protective they were of their chosen owners. Then he wrote books on the animals Luna saw in her line of work, as a Magizoologist or as she preferred magical naturalist. She documented on everything from Thestrals to magical animals that she named - that he hated saying because of the ridiculousness of them. She’d unfortunately never found the Crumbled-Horned Snorkack but with her husband Neville and her friends - she’d come to realize some things either just didn’t want to be found (much like the Lock Ness Monster) or didn’t exist. She wrote real documents on them and Harry made them into books for children to enjoy - it had been at her encouragement. His books just made Luna’s documents more popular so both of them got a great deal out of it. 

“Have you sent it out?” asked Severus, remembering the last time. Harry had made a portrait and forgotten to send it for a week. He’d been so immersed in getting his new book out that he’d totally forgotten. This one was of Aberforth Dumbledore, which Harry had done a great job on it if he was honest. He wanted to make sure he had a portrait beside his sister before he passed on. 

“I’m heading there tomorrow,” said Harry, Aberforth’s magic had to be poured into it so it would come alive so to speak upon his death. Once that was done he would receive his money for it and that would be it. 

“Good.” stated Severus, staring down at Talia who had fallen back asleep. She was stunning, even at four months old. Serena called her a miracle child; both Harry and she didn’t think they’d have another child after Caspian since they’d been unable to conceive for three years of trying. They’d wanted to give her the middle names Lily and Eileen, but he’d drawn the line there. He didn’t want Harry to name his child after his mother. It was nothing to be proud of being named after his mother, she had been weak not just as a witch but as a mother. So they had given her just the name Lily. Talia Lillian Potter-Snape. Now that was something to be proud of, Lily hadn’t just been one of the most powerful witches he’d known but the best too. 

“How’s the potion coming?” asked Harry, as he picked up his daughter, kissing her on the forehead. Smiling at her angelic face, he placed her back in her cot, and placed the covers over her sleeping form. 

“Not how I would have liked, but I always knew going into it that it might not be possible - so it does stave off disappointment.” replied Severus, remaining sitting. This was a routine they both did once in a while. They were too busy during the day, and dinner time was hectic, so at night was truly the only time they got to have an honest conversation. At least one that wasn’t hurried and quick before something interrupted them at any rate. Night time was the only time Serena and Harry got time to themselves. So two months after Caspian was born, he’d gone to feed him to give Harry and Serena time to themselves and Harry had joined him. It went on from there really. He was lucky; he got to see them every day not just once in a blue moon at the odd weekend. 

“If anyone can do it, dad, its you.” said Harry having nothing but belief in his abilities. He was trying to all out cure werewolves of their cursed lycanthrope. It wasn’t something they were going to let the public or even friends know about. They sort of had a…truce with the werewolves, not only had Greyback withdrew all werewolves from the battle and under the Dark Lord’s thumb, Harry had been working on getting them more rights. His arguments were so sound that they were unable to deny him. First it was just allowing them jobs…then getting them more freedom until he had basically stricken them off the dangerous creature list. So far his dad believed he had a potion ready for testing, he just wanted to ‘tweak it’ a little bit. 

“Hopefully,” mused Severus, thoughtfully. 

“Did you speak to Remus about doing it?” asked Harry, he knew his dad would find it difficult to ask Remus for anything. The kids had no idea they were anything other than amiable towards each other, but there would always be that history that prevented them from truly getting on well. Teddy (who was a Metamorphamagus) and Caspian were good friends, along with Neville and Luna’s son, Kallan and Jaren, and Ron and Hannah’s son and daughter, Heath and Sara. Although they were by no means as close as Neville and himself, he’d still proved himself sorry for what happened and they were friends. 

“I’d rather ask Greyback,” snorted Severus, and that was the truth. He’d rather face the werewolf that had savaged millions than ask Remus Lupin for anything. 

Harry laughed softly, remembering himself in time so he didn’t end up wakening his daughter. Some things just didn’t change, he avoided having Sirius and his dad in the same room long, and it was just too dangerous otherwise. Although Sirius had changed, he had seen a mind healer for five years before he stopped. He’d obviously realized the benefit of them. The reason he’d stopped was because his healer and Sirius had ended up dating each other, both were adamant nothing had happened while they were patient and healer, and were willing to prove it under Veritaserum so that Arai didn’t lose her job. They had a two year old son, Regulus Alphard Black, after his innocent brother and uncle who had given him money before being promptly erased from the family tree for helping him. “I’ll ask him.” he told his dad. 

“Its fine,” insisted Severus, he would do it, Lupin would jump at the chance to be free of his wolf. 

“Alright,” agreed Harry, grinning in amusement. He liked that something’s remained the same when so much changed. 

“Goodnight, son.” said Severus, standing up squeezing his sons shoulder before he left the nursery and across to his own bedroom. 

“Night,” murmured Harry quietly, looking down at his daughter, he stroked her baby smooth cheek before he too stood up straight. He heard a quiet pop and looked over to see Dobby picking up the nearly empty bottle up. It must be his turn tonight, looked like Kreacher was getting the long lie in. Giving him a small nod, he closed the room door, as he passed in looked in on his son - he was still sleeping soundly so he closed the door. 

He was just getting back to his own room when his wife appeared in his bedroom, a Portkey in her hand. “Hey, is everything alright?” asked Harry concerned as he made his way over to her. 

“I’m fine,” said Serena, hugging her husband tightly closing her eyes. “Mum just said to come home and get some sleep - dad would be there in the morning. If anything happens I have the mirror so it will be fine.” she tried to convince herself as well as Harry. 

“Good,” said Harry letting out a relieved breath. 

“How are the kids?” asked Serena quietly, “Isn’t Talia due a feed in five minutes?” 

“She’s been fed, dad did it,” said Harry honestly, he never lied to his wife. “You should get some sleep, you look shattered.” both of them were tired actually. 

“You don’t look much better,” giggled Serena, “Stay up late painting?” 

“How did you know?” asked Harry, shaking his bemused. 

“You have paint, here, here and here,” said Serena, trying to wipe it off to no success, smiling at him half exasperated. The fact he worked so hard but didn’t need to made her love him all the more, despite his hard working ethic he always, always made time for his family and made sure they got everything they wanted without being spoiled. Harry often spoke about his fear that they could turn out to be like his cousin Dudley Dursley especially the way he treated his parents. 

Unbeknown to Harry Zar had actually gotten down to the dungeons and eaten the two caged rats…Severus of course had said nothing, he just found it ironic. Zar had protected Harry from Voldemort, not to forget him as well, and had dealt with the two disgusting humans who had hurt Harry growing up. All he’d done was create an underground labyrinth for him, that was kept warm all year around with cool spots at the furthest end if he wanted them. All on the grounds of Prince Manor, at the furthest end that hadn’t been used in decades. It was all cornered off now so the kids didn’t end up accidentally falling into the labyrinth. Not that Zar would ever harm them; they could still be hurt in the fall. 

“You love it,” teased Harry, flinging them both down on the bed causing Serena to squeal and clasp her hand over her mouth - despite the fact nobody could hear out of the room - it was just habit now. 

“Did the kids behave?” asked Serena, unclipping her cloak since it was currently digging painfully into her neck. 

“They were great, planned on taking them to the beech tomorrow after I took the Aberforth’s portrait to him.” said Harry thoughtfully, as he scrambled under the covers dragging his wife with him - nothing compared to her laughter. 

“You should wait a few more months that way Talia could actually enjoy herself.” suggested Serena. 

“I promised Caspian I would,” shrugged Harry, Caspian absolutely loved the water. 

“You also promised him a dog when he grew up,” sniggered Serena. 

“I could just steal Sirius for a while,” laughed Harry, his green eyes twinkling brightly. 

“I doubt Aria would thank you for that.” chortled Serena grinning widely. She was so tired but couldn’t sleep yet, she wanted to talk to her husband. 

“Merlin, I’ve missed you so much,” admitted Harry, and not the slightest bit ashamed to admit it. He hugged her close, just relishing in her presence, the smell of her even. 

“I’ve missed you too,” said Serena burrowing into his shoulder as she shimmed closer, she could feel her eyes getting heavy - she wouldn’t last much longer. 

“Sleep,” said Harry softly, seeing that she was exhausted. He pulled the covers over both of them, just enjoying having his wife close by his side. As always he couldn’t help but think over what had happened in the past ten years. The Death Eaters had been rounded up and were serving out life sentences in Azkaban with no chance of ever seeing the outside of the prison again. That included Lucius Malfoy, who had evaded justice longer than all the others, but Sirius had finally caught him. He and Draco Malfoy still didn’t get on, not even to this day; the blonde did come to the manor from time to time with his son Scorpius. He usually liked to avoid being around him so usually ‘decided’ to work. 

It had been years since he saw Hermione Granger, she’d appeared in Hogsmeade a few times, and the Ministry trying to get work but for some reason she couldn’t get employed there. Of course trying to get positions way up in the Ministry as a newly graduate was a stupid thing to do. She had refused to even contemplate a lower ranking job, probably feeling she was much to smart for that knowing Hermione as he did. Rumour had it she went to Muggle University and was now a lawyer. If she chose to have children, he had no doubt that child would attend Hogwarts. Hermione despite all her flaws was magically powerful; it didn’t take a genius to figure out that the kid would be too. She’d tried getting in touch with him and Ron various times just after the war ended, wishing to make amends and visit. Harry had ignored them, he wasn’t sure what Ron had done - they never brought her up since it tended to make them remember what had happened in the past. 

After the war with so many children orphaned, Harry had actually put a great deal of the money he received from his first book (which was a lot, over nine million sold, with different languages of course) into building a property beside the Lovegood’s and Weasley’s in Ottery St. Catchpole in Devon, a children’s shelter. Nobody other than close family knew what he’d done. It gave the children somewhere to stay until they came off-age, somewhere where they wouldn’t have to hide they were magical as if it was something shameful. Molly bless hear heart, was always taking over baked goods, the kids were spoiled rotten by her. In the end she had taken a job as the matron and worked her way up to head matron, she taught the children how to cook for when they became off-age and learned to live on their own. Some stayed until they were eighteen instead of leaving when they were seventeen. That was people without an inheritance that still had a year of Hogwarts to go through. Ten years on, people were giving the money to the charity he’d set up, in their wills or charity boxes owners of shops had set out for that particular reason. Severus supplied the potions for the children’s shelter each month, for whatever they needed. If there were Muggle-Born children who attended Hogwarts they were automatically referred to shelter - they already had five of them. He actually had plans to recruit someone to get the children from the Muggle ones and into their own world sooner - which meant getting the Ministry involved. He was actually thinking of asking Arthur to take that spot, for some reason he liked working at the Ministry so he would need to make sure he got more than he did for working there. 

He kept in touch with nearly all the Weasley’s, with the exception of Ginny. She’d had the gall to spit at his wife, insisting to her that he was hers. Serena had been so confused but didn’t back down, it was before she realized just how…famous he was. They all still had their jobs, Charlie in Romania with the dragons, still single too. Bill stayed at Gringotts though, and never returned to Egypt, he married Fleur and they had had three children; Victoire, Dominique, and Louis Weasley. Percy still worked in the Ministry had married Audrey and had two daughters, Molly named after her paternal grandmother and Lucy. Fred Weasley co-owner of the shop and worked there had married Angelina Johnson and they had two children Roxanna and Fabian after Molly’s brother. George Weasley still worked in his shop with his brother and married Katie Bell and also had two children twins Gideon and Gemma. Ginny had never married or had children; she still lived at the Burrow working as a reserve Quidditch player for the Holyhead Harpies when they needed her which wasn’t often.

Ron was doing great as an Auror, despite the fact he hadn’t gained the pass he needed for Potions. Unfortunately the war had decimated the Auror ranks so such tight restrictions weren’t possible to maintain otherwise there would have been nobody to police the Wizarding society. Kingsley had lowered them, and accepted who he could but made sure they were kept up to scratch or they would be let go. As evident by the fact they’d let Sirius back when he clearly wasn’t ready - at least mentally. Shacklebolt had asked to meet him a few times, begging him to come and work as an Auror even just for a year or two - trying to bolster the Ministries reputation and to try and encourage more people to be an Auror. He had refused, repeatedly, he’d seen enough, done enough in the past seven years - the thought of continuing it made him shudder to his core. No he had found something he liked doing, loved doing, that enabled him to spend time with his family and he wasn’t giving that up. 

People often wondered why he wouldn’t leave Prince Manor, get his own place, Harry refused to answer, well to anyone except his wife. Truth was, he didn’t want to leave his dad, he knew that he was antisocial, he would never go out, just constantly brew potions - and he’d just worry about him. His dad had helped him when he needed it the most, so it was his turn to take care of Severus - even if he didn’t need it right now. Because of him he had the courage to write his books, no publish them; to this day he was still astonished at the acclaim the book had reached. 

Sighing softly, he flicked his wand ready to turn all lights off in the room, when he looked at the picture on his nightstand. Everyone said Basilisks were dangerous, that they couldn’t be tamed; they didn’t know shit about how to treat animals. His son had the ability to talk to Zar, and enjoyed doing so. Taking great delight in spending time with the large serpent, the photo was a picture of Caspian hugged Zar as if he was an adorable puppy. Another reason he didn't get a different property - Zar was happy here - he could never drag him away from Prince Manor and with that the room bathed in darkness, as he closed his eyes to sleep.

Oh, and Dumbledore? Well Aberforth had taken pity on him, he had at least a place to sleep...in the basement of the pub. Nobody ever saw him though, he never ventured up anymore - when he had in the beginning he was met with jeers, people spitting on him glares of disgust even the occasional curse...Albus had filed charges the first few times it happened - unfortunately there was no evidence and nobody saw anything conveniently enough. To think it had been his decision that caused his outcome...his decision to send Harry to live with Severus. For without it many things would have occurred...including Dumbledore dying a hero's death when he clearly wasn’t.

Harry's last thought as he fell asleep was tinged with irony to think it had started with Albus Dumbledore telling him he had a new place to stay.


End file.
